What Price Victory
by littlemisselvee
Summary: After the war, Hermione saves Professor Snape's life and reputation. After the victory tour, he finds her working for slave wages in Flourish and Blotts, watching every sickle and fading away before his very eyes. What happened to her cushy Ministry job? Who are the disillusioned wizards guarding her door? And how far is Severus willing to go to repay his life debt to her?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

"Oh God! There's so much blood!" Hermione Granger knelt over Severus Snape in the Shrieking Shack's moldy living room a pool of his blood spreading beneath them. Even with his eyes out of focus, Severus would recognize that bushy hair anywhere. He'd managed to live long enough to give Potter the last piece of the puzzle. Even Granger could be trusted with something this simple. He clamped a hand around her forearm, his memories seeping out from his eyes, nose and mouth.

"Take them. Take... them." He rasped as he locked his dark eyes with her frantic ones.

"Harry, get the memories."She was tearing bits of her robe. He would have screamed as her hands compressed his neck, but the pain was fading into a comforting gray.

"What are you doing?" Potter's voice.

Granger sounded like she was down a hole. "Repaying a debt. Ron, give me the Dittany!"

He was so tired, so very tired. Tired of serving two Masters. Tired of stringing Potter along by the nose. Tired of being away from Lily. It had all fallen into place. He wasn't meant to survive the war and things were coming to pass as they should. Behind his eyelids, he could see the veil. Lily was behind that veil. On the threadbare carpet he smiled even as he choked on his own blood.

_Lily._

Only now could he know if he'd earned her forgiveness. The veil rippled and fluttered, like a curtain on a summer breeze calling him, beckoning him. He tried to relax into it, as easy as falling off a broom stick. He waited for the singular embrace of death, his breath hitching in his chest.

"Hold on, Professor!" He felt the burning at the side of his neck anchoring him to the pain and weakness. The acrid smell of Ditanny jerked him back to the crumbling room.

"No!" He wanted to yell, but it came out as a ragged whisper. He was almost there.

"Are you mental, Hermione? Leave him!" Weasley.

_Yes, leave me. _

"Enough people have died. We owe him." She hissed, angry as a wet cat.

_Just one more. Just me._

He struggled to keep the veil fluttering in his mind. He saw himself reaching out to part the curtains, to feel the radiance of Lily's smile on his face again. The distance between his fingers and that fluttering cloth was widening. It was slipping away. The comforting gray around him was fading to black streaked with pain.

_Let me go, Miss Granger._

"I'll take him, Harry. Get to Dumbledore's office." When they hesitated, she yelled, "Go! There isn't much time!"

Snape grabbed a fistful of her robes and jerked her to his face, his eyes desperate, "Please...please Lily, forgive me?" Tears trickled from the corner of his eyes, his face was contorted in anguish.

_-**}{**-_

Hermione looked down at her Potion Master's frantic eyes, she was fighting him to keep up the pressure. She had to get him to St. Mungo's. He was getting more and more agitated. With a pang of guilt, she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "It's alright. I forgive you. Rest now."

He clung to her, weeping as they disapparated.

Chapter One

The Wizengamot

Severus was raised into the center of the courtroom, his arms bound to the arms of a heavy wooden chair. The chair clattered to a stop inside an iron cage. The rows of people climbed up the circular room into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted he picked out Minerva McGonagall sitting to the right of Kinglsey Shacklebolt at the head of the proceedings. So it was true, they'd made him acting Minister of Magic.

Off to his left he saw Potter and Weasley on the bottom bench whispering back and forth. To his right he saw his barrister sitting behind a long defense table with... was that Granger? He lifted his left eyebrow at her as they made eye contact. She kept her face impassive and turned back to the proceedings as Shacklebolt spoke.

"Severus Snape you have been accused of colluding with Death Eaters, killing or allowing to be killed over thirty wizards and muggles, including Albus Dumbledore..." And the list went on.

The prosecution was a rabid little wizard in blue robes. Every point the prosecution brought up, Severus's defense team would easily bat it aside. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He was working exclusively under Dumbledore's orders. And so it dragged on.

He saw the press several rows up behind the defense table, scribbling madly with their quills. Apparently, the trial of Severus Snape was big news.

Hour after hour, witness after witness the wheels of wizarding justice ground ahead.

One gray-haired witch in the Wizengamot seemed particularly bloodthirsty. She was recognized by Shacklebolt as Miranda Blount. "Yes, yes," she said dismissively, "But the fact remains he bears the Dark Mark and he killed Albus Dumbledore. Isn't that proof enough?"

To Severus's surprise, Granger stood for the first time from his defense table with a resigned sigh, "I thought we would come to this. Madam Blount, am I correct in assuming that you have viewed Dumbledore's pensieve – currently noted as exhibit G?"

Blount gave a tight nod and Hermione continued, "And you recall the earlier testimony of no less than three Ministry memory officials who could find no evidence of any tampering with the memories, correct?"

Behind him he heard Weasley groan, "Hermione, no!"

Potter stood, "You don't have to do this!"

She met their eyes sadly, and nodded, "Yes, I do."

Madam Blount pursed her lips and snapped, "I was here, yes. Get to the point."

"The point, Madam, is this." Hermione jerked back her sleeve revealing an angry raised scar as long as her forearm reading _Mudblood_. She walked around the ring of the Wizengamot, putting her arm on display.

Madam Blount's voice went shrill over the murmurings in the crowd, "I fail to see..."

Hermione gave her a withering look, "Of course you do. You seem to have trouble accepting that Dumbledore would ask Severus Snape for help. You see, when Albus Dumbledore begged Severus Snape to end his life if he were ever captured he said, and I quote: _Bellatrix likes to play with her food._ There are only three people alive today that know exactly what that means: Frank and Alice Longbottom – who are currently in the permanent spell damage ward at St. Mungo's- and me."

Granger waited for the rumble of conversation to pass before continuing, "I received this scar while Bellatrix LaStrange tortured me. I assure you, it isn't the only one she gave me." She paused and walked to stand next to Severus.

He saw her scar, angry, red and puckered spelling out the slur. When had Bellatrix tortured her? Why hadn't he known?

With a wave of her wand, she freed the bindings around his wrists."Professor, if you would please roll up your left sleeve."

Their eyes locked. He had no idea where she was going with this. How far was he going to trust her? He slowly rolled up his left sleeve revealing his Dark Mark.

"As our inside man, Professor Snape also knew what Bellatrix was capable of. He was our spy in Voldemort's ranks. But he could not have been our spy without _this_. The Dark Mark that Voldemort himself gave him when he was brought into his innermost circle." On cue Severus held up his arm. "He and I both bear scars from this war, Madam Blount. We were both on the front lines. We both knew what Albus Dumbledore's last true request was. It is a travesty our justice system has to rely on wizards and witches in the Wizengamot who have no idea what really happened during the war."

McGonagall's mouth tightened as she admonished her, "Miss Granger!"

"I beg your pardon!" Blount spluttered, "If you continue in this vein, I'll have you held in contempt!"

Granger scoffed, even as Severus growled a near inaudible warning to her through the bars.

"_You_ will hold _me_ in contempt?" Granger barked a laugh, "That's rich, Madam. I hold _you_ in contempt, as does everyone else who fought and died to be rid of Voldemort. Where were you when Cedric Diggory died and the Ministry vilified Albus Dumbledore? Where were you when the Dementors were being allowed to run rampant through Britain? Where were you when the muggle borns were being rounded up like cattle? Were you even at the Battle of Hogwarts, Madam?" Hermione was panting for breath. "Were you?" She blew out a long breath, clearing her face of errant hair.

"Careful, Granger," Severus growled quietly.

"Trust me." She hissed back out of the side of her mouth.

Shacklebolt was banging his gavel and his baritone voice boomed, "Miss Granger! I will have order!"

"Minister, Headmistress McGonagall, all of you who stood by me and Harry and Ron and Professor Snape, I beg your pardon. But for the rest of you, the ones that hid behind the might of the ministry, thinking only of yourselves, I beg you to find me in contempt. Please."

She crossed to the other side of the gallery and looked up into the press box at Rita Skeeter and smiled before turning back to Kinglsey. "The press would just love to hear what a certain girl heroine has to say about a certain Wizengamot witch who allowed muggle borns to be tortured and have their wands snapped right in this very room. I can and will name names."

Granger smiled up at Rita Skeeter. "I have friends in the press. Rita and I go way back." Rita giggled and gave a little wave as her Quick Quotes quill blurred back and forth over her notepad.

Granger wheeled on Blount, "When the truth comes out, who do you think the public will believe, Madam? You or me? It's time you all started acting in the best interest of the Wizarding Public and stopped hiding behind the letter of the law."

She crossed back to Severus's cage. "This man saved Harry's life. He saved Ron's life. He saved my life. He saved Dumbledore from a fate worse than death. Dark Mark or no, this war wouldn't have been won without Severus Snape, and it's time you all recognize that."

Granger turned to face Shacklebolt with her hands held out for binding. "Minister, I am ready to be found in contempt." She met Blount's eye and smirked in challenge.

A guard in gold security robes grabbed her elbow and Severus held his breath.

Shacklebolt called out, "All in favor of placing Miss Hermione Granger in contempt?" A smattering of hands went up, but the vast majority of the Wizengamot turned away.

"Motion failed. You are free to go, Miss Granger."

She yanked her elbow from the guard and turned to wink at him. Wink! At him! She flounced back to the defense table. He fought to hide his smirk. Insufferable know-it-all.

"Minister," His defense lawyer said, "I move that all charges against Severus Tobias Snape be dropped."

"I second!" Rang from the gallery.

"Hear, hear!" Another call echoed in the dark.

Shacklebolt banged his gavel again, "All those in favor of dropping all charges against the accused?" He took a quick view of the votes. Blount didn't raise her hand. "Motion passed. Charges dropped, please free the accused. Let's break for lunch and resume here at two o'clock."

The cage was lifted, his feet were unbound and he made his way to the defense table. His barrister and Granger were straightening up their mounds of paperwork. He placed his hand on the stack nearest her and waited as she shoved random piles into her bags. When she tried to yank his pile in the bag, it wouldn't budge. She looked up.

"Oh, Professor. Congratulations."

He raised his brow, "Indeed. It would seem someone let a rabid NEWT student form my defense strategy. Did you qualify to practice law while I was in the hospital?"

She blushed. "No, sir. I-" And in that moment she seized him around the middle and hugged him.

Severus froze.

She whispered, "It was the only way without showing them these." He felt several small items tinkle into his pockets. "Let's go claim your wand, and I'll buy you a cup of tea."

Rita Skeeter bustled by with her photographer in tow, "Picture for the evening edition." A flashbulb blinded both of them. "Listen, Hermione, do you think you and I could get a drink sometime this week? Love to do a column on the corruption you were talking about." She spun on Severus, "Any comment for the Prophet?"

Hermione threw him a 'be nice' look. He sighed and snapped, "Miss Granger was brilliant. Now if you'll excuse us." He grabbed Hermione by the elbow and hustled her out the courtroom door.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for your great feedback! We have a bit of set up to do before we can get to the heart of our story. So let's press on, shall we?

Chapter Two

_Vida Eximus_

They fled up the stairs to the polished hallway of the Department of Mysteries. The lift clattered open and Severus ushered Hermione inside. His portly barrister bustled in and the doors clanked shut just as the reporters caught up and pressed in on them. Flash bulbs popped and a cacophony of questions were shouted all at once.

Granger kept her poise as the reporters dropped away beneath them. Where had she learned such control? Everything about her was changed. Her hair was smoothed into a sleek knot at the back of her head, her robes were expensive and cut to hint at her curves. But it was her eyes that startled him the most: flat and tired, too old for such a young face. Where was the eleven year old know-it-all with the bushy hair?

Severus plucked at the sleeve covering her scar and hissed, "Why didn't you tell me?" Logically, he knew there hadn't been time. In his gut he knew that cursed knife in her flesh was his fault. He'd promised Albus to look after them.

Granger smiled sweetly as she tossed a look behind her reminding him of the barrister straining to hear every word they said. "We all paid our price, Professor." Her eyes told a different story, one that he'd have to wait to hear.

"Indeed." His hand fell into his pocket feeling several small bottles. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. He removed his hand.

The woman's voice in the lift announced, "Level seven: Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"This is our floor." Granger chimed with a brittle smile.

He held the doors open and ushered her back out of the car. She grasped his elbow and led him down a long hallway to a window. She released his arm long enough to reach into her bag. Fishing out a piece of parchment, she slid it through the window.

The wizard behind the window frowned at the docket, then at him.

Severus didn't need a wand to hear his thoughts: _Another Death Eater walks free._

"You'll need to release Professor Snape's wand and personal effects. All the paperwork is in order." Her voice was steady, but her demeanor was terse.

The property office wizard sneered at her, then yelled over his shoulder, "Hey, Yarrow, you know anything about the Snape case?"

Granger bristled, "His name is _Professor_ Snape. He is still a teacher at Hogwarts. You will address him as such."

Severus slid his free hand over hers and gave it a small squeeze. When she looked up at him, he gave a tiny shake of his head.

_Easy, Granger._

As the property wizard whipped his head around, a retort on his lips, an imposing wizard in golden Auror robes wound his way from between the shelves of confiscated property. He leered at Severus, "Slippery as a fish, as always. Get his things, Moxley."

"And you are?" Granger snapped. The girl was like a dog worrying at a bone.

The new arrival blinked at her. "Miss Granger?"

She gave a small nod, "The same."

"The name's Yarrow, Rupert Yarrow, new Head of Magical Law Enforcement. A real pleasure to meet you, ma'am." He poked his hand under the glass and she shook it perfunctorily. When she didn't seem inclined to say anything further, he cleared his throat and added, "I was hoping to see your application come across my desk for the Auror department along with Mr. Potter's."

Severus caught the look he sent to Granger's chest. It was just a flicker of the eye. Perhaps she hadn't noticed it.

By this time Moxley had returned with a large envelope and began going over the inventory of items, pushing them under the glass one at a time, ticking them off a parchment list.

"Purse with seventy-five galleons, twelve sickles and twenty-nine knuts." Moxley ticked the parchment, then groped in the envelope.

"Handkerchief, monogrammed." Tick on the parchment.

Severus began pocketing his belongings.

"I'll be working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as special assistant to the Department Head." She replied icily.

"Pocket watch, green enamel with Hogwarts Slytherin crest." Tick.

"Then perhaps," Yarrow licked his lips, "You'll let me buy you lunch."

Severus moved his arm around her shoulders and sneered, "I don't think so." Gads, he could feel how thin she'd gotten. Her head barely reached above his shoulder.

"And finally, wand, ebony with unicorn hair center." Tick.

Severus grabbed his wand and waved it over the signature line. He leaned in to Granger's ear, wanting to be overheard, and said, "How about that tea you promised me?"

Granger caught on. She was quicker than he remembered. Without even questioning him, she slid her arm around his waist, pulling him closer before replying, "Of course." She poked her free hand out to the pudgy barrister, "Mr. Bobbit, it's been a pleasure, please send your bill and I'll be happy to look after it."

Severus hustled her back to the lifts, growling in her ear, "Don't make too many enemies on my account, Miss Granger."

"This whole place is rotten to the core, Professor." She was masking her fury on her face, but it crackled through in her voice.

As they reached the floo he leaned into her again and whispered, "Miranda Blount is no one to trifle with."

Her look was fierce. "And we are?"

_-**}{**-_

They sat in a cafe in muggle London. Granger stirred her cappuccino absently, watching the rain crawl down the window.

He took a sip of the bitter coffee and said quietly, "You never came to see me in the hospital."

She didn't take her eyes off the rivulets of rain. "I owed that to you. It was better that way."

When she didn't elaborate, he scowled, "Explain."

She was silent while a couple ran past the window, unsuccessfully dodging raindrops. "I didn't understand. I just knew I owed you." She dropped her eyes to the dissolving foam in her cup, still stirring. "We all did."

"So it was better for me to owe you a life debt, than the other way around?"

She shrugged in reply.

He took out a bottle from his pocket. "And these?" His lips were tight, his voice walking the line between annoyed and angry.

"I took them from the pensieve before the Ministry confiscated it."Her spoon stopped stirring, but she didn't look up. "They were... private."

He put the small bottle of silvery memories back in his pocket. He gulped his coffee. It burned its way down his throat to sit in his stomach like a hot iron ball.

Her eyes went back to the window.

He waited.

"You called me Lily." Her whisper was ragged.

He took a deep, painful breath through his nose and finally her eyes flickered to his, just for a fraction of a second.

The waitress arrived and to refill his cup. He waved her off.

"I'm sorry, sir." When she finally held his eyes, a tear streaked down her left cheek. "I should have let you go to her." She stood to leave, throwing muggle money down on the table next to her untouched coffee. "I won't bother you again."

As she moved to walk away, he grabbed her wrist. "There's no walking away from a life debt, Miss Granger."

She snatched her wrist away, her eyes held straight ahead. "We're even." She said stiffly. "_Vida eximus_. I release you, Professor."

He felt the magic tingle over him.

She hesitated as if she was going to say something more, then deciding better of it, pushed out the door into the rain. He watched her, head down, hands rammed into her coat pockets until she turned a corner and disappeared.

_-**}{**-_

Severus apparated to his back garden at Spinner's End. It was well past dark, he'd spent the evening wandering the streets of muggle London in the rain. As he stalked to his kitchen door he heard the grass bristle behind him.

He pulled his wand and whirled around to face Rita Skeeter.

She smiled widely, "Well, hello, handsome."

In the dimness of the alley light, he saw her bright red fingernails climb his chest as she slithered closer.

His mind immediately went back to his trial, to Granger saying she had 'friends' in the press. This vile creature might be the only person who could keep her from retaliation by Blount. "Miss Skeeter." He dropped a perfunctory nod. "How can I be of service?"

Rita's matching bright red lips encircled more teeth in a smile than should be physically possible. "I was hoping to get an interview. How does it feel to be a free wizard?"

Severus sighed. Patience wasn't his strong suit. "At the moment, Miss Skeeter, I'm very tired. I was getting ready to retire."

Her painted eyebrows went up even as her lips pouted, "It won't take two shakes."

He couldn't discount any of the players yet. This was Granger's game. Severus pushed his exhaustion away and pulled a smile across his face even as his finger brushed the underside of her chin. "Another night, perhaps? For drinks?" He purred.

Skeeter blinked, taking in his features again as if noticing him for the first time, then replied with a purr of her own, "Tuesday? The Three Broomsticks, say about eight?"

He gave a slight bow, "I look forward to it."

Suspicion crawled into her eyes, "You promise me an exclusive?"

He peeled her hand from his cloak and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Of course. I would appreciate it if you'd spread the word. I'd rather not have to be turning your competition away at the door."

She giggled and turned on her heel, batting her eyes, "Until Tuesday, handsome."

After watching her disapparate, he opened the kitchen door, slamming it behind him. He peeled off his cloak and grabbing a bottle at random from the liquor cabinet, he sloshed some into a glass and gulped it down.

He swept into the living room, lit a fire in the hearth and drank until the bottle and glass were both empty. His mind kept returning to the puckered mudblood carved into Granger's arm, to her blithely cast _vida eximus, _to her whisper, "You called me Lily"_._

He sat abruptly up in his chair and smashed his glass into the fire.

In the past eighteen years, he'd been free of obligation for the length of time he was bleeding to death. _Vida eximus_ didn't erase this debt. The magical compulsion to help her may have been wiped clean, but his conscience wasn't.

Severus picked up the bottle to take another swig. Finding it empty, he flung it into the fire.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Between a Rock and Rita Skeeter

Hermione walked through muggle London until she was drenched. The afternoon stretched into evening and the rain of earlier had settled into a steady drizzle. Once she was sure the Weasleys would have eaten and cleared off for bed, she apparated back to the Burrow.

She came in the kitchen door to find Mrs. Weasley finishing the last of the tidying up. Ron's mother smiled and hugged her, "I was starting to get worried. You're soaked! Upstairs with you to change. I've saved you some supper, dear."

Hermione climbed the stairs to the room she shared with Ginny. Both beds were empty. That was no surprise. Ginny and Harry ducked off every chance they got. She rummaged through her things and went into the bathroom.

Turning both taps, she ducked under the water. She scrubbed under the hot spray, letting the heat seep back into her joints. The flannel brushed against the ugly raised scar on her right arm. It still hurt, all these weeks later. She scrubbed it again and again as her tears began to well.

Every day since the Victory she'd smiled, danced and pressed the flesh of influential witches and wizards. She'd given speeches and signed autographs, cut ribbons on new hospitals and comforted the families of the fallen. All without so much as a breath in between. Every night she'd remembered Tonks and Lupin, Fred and Mad Eye, Dumbledore and Colin; her parents.

All afternoon she'd promised herself over and over again she wasn't going to cry, but here in the safety of the Burrow, the feelings overwhelmed her: her shame at the mudblood scar, making enemies before even starting at the Ministry, her remorse for ever looking at his damn memories. The knowledge she'd give anything to be loved just one tenth of the dead Lily.

_Lily._

Professor Snape had called her Lily and she'd lied to him. She'd forgiven him.

There was a rap at the door. Mrs. Weasley's voice came to her through the steam, "There's hot soup on the table, dear. I'm off to bed."

"Thank you." She tried to pull herself together. Nobody sensed something was wrong faster than...

"Alright, there, dear?" Mrs. Weasley.

_Snap out of it! _

Her mind raced for an excuse, and she blurted, "Think I might have caught a chill is all."

"There's some Pepper-Up behind the mirror. Help yourself."

She sagged in relief, calling back, "Thanks again. Good night."

In the morning she twisted her hair up and put on her Ministry robes. Purple wasn't exactly her color, but that hardly mattered. She packed a few quills, tokens and her purse into a briefcase.

Ron poked his head in wearing his Chudley Cannon uniform, "I looked for you yesterday. What happened to you after the trial?"

She busied herself shuffling things around in her case, only looking up at the last, "I took Professor Snape to get his things."

His look darkened, "That took all night?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Of course not. I went for a walk after."

Disbelief marched across his face, "A walk? In the rain?"

"I wasn't feeling much up to company after..." she trailed off.

She could almost see the wand light go on over his head, "Oh! Right!" He was over at her side in and instant, his arms around her. "You didn't have to do that. No one had to know about that scar."

She sighed, "We've been over this. I was the link between Dumbledore and the memory in the pensieve."

He nibbled at her ear, saying, "He's still a git, 'Mione. I don't see why you insisted on defending him."

"Innocence matters, Ron." He shrugged and let her go as she pulled her briefcase strap over her shoulder. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen she changed the subject from the very dead horse Professor Snape and her scar had become. "What time's your practice today?"

"Eight to twelve. It's just a half day because of the game tomorrow. Are you going to make it?" Ron took a seat at the breakfast table next to Ginny and began piling his plate high.

Hermione winced as she took the seat across from him, "I don't know if I can, I already missed my first day of orientation for the trial." She poured them both tea.

Ginny watched the back and forth like a gobstones match, her engagement ring sparkling on the hand that held her tea to her lips.

He scowled, his mouth stuffed with toast, "So, the greasy git gets more of your attention than I do?"

Hermione let her tea slam back to the table, sloshing it all over. "Com'on, Ron, you know that isn't true!"

Making a noise of disbelief, he shoved another piece of toast in his mouth and stomped out the door.

Her fists clenched, Hermione growled in frustration.

Across the table, Ginny's eyebrows had climbed into her bangs, "Trouble in paradise?"

_-**}{**-_

At the Ministry, Hermione knocked softly on Banse Flemming's door. It was cracked so she poked her head in, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Flemming had the harried look of a man who drank too much coffee and disarmed muggle bombs for a living. He gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he invited her in, "Miss Granger, yes, come in and shut the door."

She took the seat he offered in his cramped office, pasting a smile on her face, "How can I help, sir?"

Flemming twirled the end of a walrus mustache with shaking fingers. "It would seem Miss Granger, you made some very cutting remarks yesterday in the Wizengamot."

She stiffened, but kept her voice level, "I was on the defense team of Professor Snape, sir. I did what I had to do to see him released."

He waved his wand over his desk and a small tea service appeared. "Tea?" At her nod, he poured out two cups.

"Please."

"You see, Miss Granger, this department is what we like to call an 'under' department. We're under paid, under staffed and under funded." He chuckled at his own joke.

Hermione stirred milk in her tea and waited.

"With you being... well, who you are, everything you say or do here at the Ministry matters. I considered it quite a feather in our little department's cap to have you." He took a sip of his tea and blotted his mustache with a napkin.

"Thank you, sir."

"Let's just say, we need all the scraps we can get. It's hard enough to pass bills easing restrictions on non-humanoid magical beings without... well, you know; causing waves."

"I see." She said, slowly lowering her tea cup.

He chuckled and patted a portion of his desk in front of her, "I knew you would, my dear. Bright girl, that's what everyone says about you, you know?"

He finished his tea and put his cup aside. "We're stretched so thin right now, you can fairly well choose anything you'd like to cut your teeth. Do you have any ideas where you'd like to start?"

Hermione withdrew a roll of parchment from her briefcase, "As a matter of fact, sir, I do." She handed the roll across the desk and beamed, "The Remus Lupin Bill of Werewolf Rights."

He seemed taken aback by the title. Unrolling the scroll he read the major points, pinning her with his gaze every few lines.

She sat still as a stone until he'd finished it.

He gave a 'harrumph' at the end before lowering the scroll, "You don't really expect this to pass, do you Miss Granger? Full voting rights? The right to public schooling? Ministry subsidized wolf's bane potion?"

"Remus Lupin was a gentleman, a werewolf and a patriot, sir."

"He could be Harry bloody Potter himself! This still wouldn't pass!" At least she now knew his face flushed red when he got excited.

"I don't expect it to go through the Wizengamot without compromise." He looked ready to interrupt her, but she plowed ahead, "But, sir, if we need an inch, isn't it best to ask for a mile and settle for a foot?"

He sighed then gave her a patronizing smile. "Oh, very well. I guess I've forgotten what it is to be young and idealistic. Thirty-two votes, Miss Granger. You get thirty-two and I'll tip in the winning vote."

_-**}{**-_

Rita Skeeter waylaid Hermione in the atrium on her way back to the Burrow with a patronizing wave of her hand and a gush of, "Hermione, dear, so good to see you."

A few of the surrounding witches and wizards frowned at her as she accepted air kissed on both her cheeks.

"Rita! What a surprise! I was just on my way out. What brings you here?"

"You, actually. I was hoping I could buy you dinner and we could cook up a great scoop. How does 'Malfeasance of Mugwump Blount' sound?" She held her hands in the air, picturing the headline.

Hermione thought of the scroll in her bag and cringed. She couldn't expose the bad apples in the Wizengamot and still hope to pass Lupin's bill. "I'd love to have dinner, but I actually have something even juicier for you!"

An hour later over empty plates, Rita was frowning, "But Hermione that's not juicy! A new bill to allow Werewolves rights? Who cares?"

Hermione's hair was coming down from her knot in frazzled bits, it made her deflation over the table look almost pitiful. "I know, Rita, but I _need_ this."

Rita picked up her goblet and pointed her finger across the table at Hermione in the same gesture, "And I _need_ to sell papers." She took a drink from her cup, an idea clearly blooming in her eyes, "Unless..." And that caveat was said with an evil twinkle in her eye that made Hermione cringe on the inside, "Unless you have some information about tall, dark and naughty?"

She blinked, clearly confused, "Who?"

Rita traced the edge of her goblet with a purple claw. "Professor Snape, dear. The bad boy wizard whose name is on every red-blooded witch's lips."

There was no way in hell she was telling her any of the Professor's secrets. Truce or no truce, Rita Skeeter had claws and Hermione knew she'd done enough damage already. "I don't know much, to be honest. He was my teacher, after all. I don't know how much your readers would..."

"Oh no, no, no!" Rita cackled, "This isn't for my readers, Hermione. This is for me." Rita ran her tongue over her bright purple lips.

Grabbing a napkin, Hermione choked on her wine and struggled to breathe. "You and Professor Snape?"

She smirked, "We can trade; you give me what you've got on your Professor Sexypants, and I'll give your Werewolf thing a push on page three."

Hermione shook her head, "Do a cameo on Remus Lupin, put it on the front page as a series for fallen patriots and you got yourself a deal."

"Page two, with the Lupin puff piece. That's my final offer." Rita's eyes narrowed.

Hermione sighed, "Done. What do you want to know?"

"The girl stuff: What kind of hobbies does he have? Is he seeing anyone? Boxers, briefs," her lips twisted into a crooked smile, "or commando?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Standard disclaimer: (which I forgot to post in Chapter One) Thanks JKR for letting me splash around in your mud puddle. Yarrow, Flemming, Blount and others you don't recognize are mine, so are Chalk Cliffs and the plot.**

**This story is more like Harry Potter for grown ups. It is much darker in tone and deals with some adult themes, so please beware the "T" rating. If we get a little crazy, I may change it to an "M" later on, but I'll keep you posted.**

**It was either short chapter now, or super-long one tomorrow. I thought you might like the update.**

**Reviews and comments help feed the muse, so if you like (or -gulp- hate) what you read, please do :)**

Chapter Four

The Quill is Mightier than the Bludger

Later that night at the Burrow, Hermione clutched a cold cup of tea and vacantly stared out the kitchen window into the darkness. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were listening to the wireless in the living room. Harry and Ginny were out to dinner and Ron was Merlin-knows-where. Again.

Behind her, the grate glowed green and a letter skittered across the floor.

She rewarmed her cold tea and picked it up. The envelope was far thicker than usual and turning it over, she saw it was addressed in acid green ink to her.

Setting her tea back on the table, she ran her finger under the seal and withdrew the packet. As she opened the letter, pictures scattered across the table top. A quick glance told her a few of the pictures had Ron in them. She turned to the note and read quickly:

_Hermione,_

_A few of these are going to make it into the Prophet tomorrow. _

_I did try to warn you about him. I held off as long as I could._

_-Rita_

Panicking, she shuffled through the pictures: a young witch with a big chest hanging on Ron, Ron with his tongue down a different witch's throat, Ron ducking right past her in the street yesterday, his arms full of yet another witch. The rest were just variations on the same theme.

Her fingers went numb and half the pictures spilled over the edge of the table to scatter on the floor. Tears welled in her eyes as Celestina Warbucks warbled a _Cauldron of Hot, Strong Love _in the next room. She bit the side of her hand to muffle her sobs.

A few minutes or a few hours later, she didn't know, Mrs. Weasley bustled in with an empty tea tray. She magicked it to the sink and put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione, dear, what's the..."

Through her tears she watched Mrs. Weasley pick up one of the photos and gasp. She picked up another, than another, spluttering incoherently.

Finally Mrs. Weasley managed, "When I get my hands on that boy, I'm going to..."

Hermione shook her head emphatically, and gulped her sobs down enough to say, "I 'll just go then." She stood on wobbly legs as Mrs. Weasley hovered behind her.

She tried to turn Hermione around, but the younger woman simply shrugged her off.

Molly Weasley put her hands on her hips, her face contorted into a vee of anger. "You are not going anywhere! I didn't raise my son to be a man who...who prefers _scarlet women_!" She shrieked.

Hermione trudged up the stairs as Mrs. Weasley flew through the door to the living room crying, "Arthur! Arthur! Tell her!"

In her room, Hermione opened her trunk and flicked her wand to pack her things. Nothing happened. She flicked again, this time with tears of frustration mingled in with the hurt. A few things flopped lazily toward the trunk, none making it inside.

Arthur Weasley appeared in the doorway and knocked gently on the frame.

She looked up into his concerned face, then began throwing her things in her trunk.

Mr. Weasley's soft voice carried over the racket of Hermione's frantic packing better than any shriek, "Where will you go?"

"I don't care!" She yanked a drawer from her dresser and dumped it unceremoniously into her trunk. She tried three times to fit the drawer back into the dresser before Mr. Weasley gently took it out of her hands and guided back in place.

"Molly and I care, Hermione." He spread his arms wide and she ran into them, clinging to his jumper. He pressed a handkerchief into her hand and stroked her hair until she'd cried herself out.

He waited until she'd dried her eyes, then spoke softly, "Why don't you see to your packing, and I'll go and make some arrangements, shall I?"

She sniffled and threw the last of her belongings in her trunk. At this hour Crookshanks would be out prowling around. She placed the empty basket on top of her trunk and dragged them both downstairs to the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was doing what she did best in a crisis: cooking. Hermione found hot soup and tea on the table, despite the late hour. Ron's mother tried to press some on her, but she refused.

"Arthur's gone to book you a room at the Leaky Cauldron for tonight. He should be back any minute, dear. If you won't eat, at least have some tea."

With a shuddering breath, she let Mrs. Weasley press a cuppa on her and settled onto the bench closest to the fire.

"I'll keep an eye out for Crookshanks and have Ginny bring him by in the morning." She patted Hermione's shoulder.

"Thanks." Her eyes wanted to burn and unfocus all at the same time.

Mrs. Weasley grabbed her own cup of tea and perched awkwardly on the bench opposite Hermione. She blew across her steaming tea, saying over the top of the cup, "Arthur will speak with Mr. Flemming in the morning. Don't worry about going in. Arthur will smooth it over."

The back door opened and Ron staggered in. "What the... Where the hell are you going?"

Hermione pinned him with a glare, then returned her eyes to the floor.

The fire roared green and Mr. Weasley stepped out. He didn't spare Ron more than a glance before taking Hermione's arm and gathering her luggage.

"Where's Hermione going?" were the last words she heard Ron say as his mother exploded.

"We should probably get you settled in. It's late already." Mr. Weasley whispered in her ear as he offered the flower pot full of Floo Powder. She threw her powder into the grate, and disappeared into the roar of the green flames.

_-**}{**-_

The next morning there was a knock on her door. Tom called through the thick wood, "Beggin' yer pardon, Miss. Thought you might like some breakfast."

Hermione sat stiffly in the only chair in the room staring out the window. She called back, "You can come in."

She heard the door open behind her and Tom's scraping step cross the room until he laid the tea things on the small table. Not taking her eyes from the bustle down on Diagon Alley, she said quietly, "Thank you, Tom."

He shuffled his feet behind her, dragging her attention from the window. She twisted at the waist to look at him, "Was there something else?"

"Miss has a visitor. Shall I send 'em up?"

A thrill of dread ran through her. _Oh, Merlin! Ron!_

She mentally shook herself, Mrs. Weasley probably put him in a body cast last night for breaking up the set of all three 'Golden Griffendors' being in her family. Still, it couldn't hurt to be safe. "Would you mind bringing them up, Tom? We may need more breakfast."

"Of course, Miss." He bowed, backing out of the room and scraping his lame leg along behind.

A few minutes later she heard Tom's dragging steps. There was a brief knock and Ginny launched herself and a furry orange ball into Hermione's arms announcing, "My brother is royal frogspawn! Imagine the guts! Him accusing you, when all along..."

A muffled "Mreow!" came from between them and Ginny stepped back.

Hermione buried her face in Crookshanks's fur. He purred so loudly that she almost missed the clearing of Tom's throat.

"Would you be likin' breakfast as well, then, Miss?"

Ginny plunked down on the bed and grabbed some of Hermione's toast. "Please." Tom bowed himself out and Ginny scrutinized her friend, "You gonna be alright?"

Hermione's eyes were filling again, so she stifled the sob and just nodded vigorously.

"Mom hasn't stopped yelling. Dad won't speak to him and Harry gave him a black eye."

The shock of Harry punching Ron broke her careful control, and two tears tracked silently down her face as she exclaimed, "What?!"

Ginny smirked, "I gave him a matched set." The both laughed, then Ginny continued, "And mom won't heal him, so he's got to go to his game and let his mediwitch do it. I hope Rita's photographer is there and they plaster it all over the front page."

Hermione spotted the _Prophet _under her tray, but Ginny snatched it up first. "Trust me, you don't want to see it."

Hermione held her hand out and waited.

Ginny sighed, but handed it over, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Under the bottom fold of the front page was the headline: _Granger to Weasley: Clear Off!_ The one picture she'd hoped not to find – the one of Ron slinking by her two days ago as she wandered the streets in the rain was among the photos accompanying Rita's article. Hermione scanned the first few lines.

"_Wizarding heroine Hermione Granger has sent her former colleague in the Voldemort Wars, Ronald Weasley, packing after numerous infidelities. Order of Merlin winner or not, how this sod could fail to appreciate Miss Granger's many wiles is beyond this reporter. Apparently, he prefers trollops to true witches. This misstep in Mr. Weasley's dance card could very well make the latest fashion of ginger boy-toys a thing of the past."_

"At least she was polite."Hermione refolded the paper, and out of habit, checked the headline story. It was a biography of Remus Lupin. Hermione made a mental note to send Rita a thank you. She could have done much, much worse.

"Are you kidding me?" squealed Ginny. "She's practically peddling you on the street corner!" Hermione tore back through the paper, but Ginny snatched it away and began to read, "_While the lovely Miss Granger has certainly been through the worst of shocks, this gentle reporter would kindly suggest it should be our patriotic duty to help her through some of these troubled times. Perhaps some of our most eligible wizarding bachelors would be willing to help her forget her former ginger newt._"

Hermione turned eight shades of red and covered her face in her hands with a groan, "She _didn't_!"

Ginny threw down the paper on the bed and stared in shock out the window. "I think you better see this."

Crossing to the window, she gasped. A queue of post owls started at the end of the alley near Gringott's and wound its way neatly to her window in the Leaky Cauldron.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So here we are again, setting yet more balls in motion. I love Severus dearly, but he is a bear to write. A few more reviews would be helpful. I'm going to try to crank out another chapter tonight and have it posted tomorrow, so your thoughts are most welcome. :) Thanks for reading and big bear hugs to my reviewers, I read and treasure each and every one.**

Chapter Five

Nargles and Joraks

In Spinner's End Severus was taking a well-deserved break from packing. A cup of Earl Grey steamed at his elbow as he sat at his desk. In front of him a Gringott's receipt documented an exorbitant deposit into his account. Apparently the Hogwarts board had decided that having him on staff was a lightening rod issue between the parents. His severance pay had been based off his last post of headmaster and his sixteen years of service. It was a staggeringly generous sum.

The first order of business had been to move housekeeping. Spinner's End was in terrible disrepair, but the memories it held were worse. He could stomach living there only as long as his financial status made it impossible to move.

It had been a long couple of days, visiting property after property with that nitwit Luna Lovegood prattling on about nargles and trying to make him wear a radish necklace. Finally, he'd found the perfect place: an ancient rambling pile of stone and whitewash along the coast of western Ireland. The sea crashed along cliffs behind, even as a long drive through rolling pasture buffered him from the muggle road.

He fingered the heavy old skeleton keys. It was time. This place reeked of the urine scent of fear, the cacophony of blows from anything to hand, the feather-light prayers of a desperate little boy.

He was a frightened boy no longer.

He was a slave to the memory of Lily no longer.

Yes, Lily was still here. The velvet ropes that bound him to her memory for so long were finally cut. Her son was alive at the cost of his soul. Forgiven or not, there was nothing else to give and it was time to move on.

He'd been furious at Granger when he woke in St. Mungo's and would have traded his wand to throttle her. He thought she'd robbed him of his final act of redemption in Lily's memory. Trapped in his hospital bed under a restraining spell he'd had nothing but time to think.

Whether she knew it or not, Granger had given him the gift of life with perspective.

After months of reflection, he now understood true friendships weren't cast aside merely because of harsh words. Day by day he came to the realization that Lily hadn't cared for him at all. After everything he'd done in her name, that truth left him raw, aching and humiliated. That truth severed the final tie to Lily's memory with a surgically clean cut.

For the first time in decades, he could fall asleep at night without his guilt for Lily perched like a suffocating weight on his chest. The keys in his hand were the first step to recognizing that truth and leaving the ghosts of old mistakes behind.

He owed Miss Granger much more than a life debt.

He frowned at the headline on this morning's Prophet: _Granger to Weasley: Clear Off! _It was obvious she was better off without the philandering git. The photographs alone made that much plain. Even without the infidelities, he was hardly her intellectual equal. Why did witches always like them young and dumb?

Her personal life was none of his business. His fingers itched along his wand to curse him anyway. It was Weasley, after all. Perhaps he'd have time later. He'd read in between the lines of Skeeter's article and he had things to do.

Pulling out a piece of parchment, he hastily scrawled out another note to the nitwit nargle-lover:

_Miss Lovegood,_

_I urgently require a list of small cottages available for purchase. Something cheerful with a nice garden, suitable for a summer home. Return Poe to me at once with your selections._

_Severus Snape_

"Poe!" Severus bellowed as he rolled the parchment. A large, blue-black raven clattered to a landing on his desk and snatched the roll from his fingers. "Luna Lovegood. Make haste. Do not return without a reply." He held up a shiny silver sickle in front of the raven's eye, then placed it on the table between them, his thumb firmly tacking it down. With a longing look at the coin, the huge bird took flight.

The next day Severus was carefully labeling and organizing his potion ingredients. The new potions lab space in the caretaker's house was proving to be most accommodating. He had eight work tables, two large ingredient cupboards and an attached greenhouse.

He was just thinking he'd have to brick up the windows when he spotted an owl sitting on the ledge outside.

He dropped a knut into the post owl's pouch and untied the letter.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_We received title to the bungalow at 59 Wailing Way, Hogsmeade yesterday afternoon. I made the offer as instructed. I didn't mention your name or anything about you. Although, I don't really understand why you didn't just tell her. Oh, well. _

_Even without knowing it was you, she accepted at the rate of 100 galleons a month. I couldn't get her any lower even after telling her it was infested with orange burbling joraks._

_For an intelligent person, she can be awfully thick. She didn't seem to believe me about the joraks. She will after they eat all of her socks._

_Sincerely,_

_Luna Lovegood_

He'd warded the place himself last night on the off-chance Granger would take him up on his anonymous offer. He'd even included an anti-Ron Weasley jinx on the rosebushes along the walkway just for his own amusement. Too bad the gardens didn't have a venemous tentacula.

_-**}{**-_

Severus lounged on the velvet couch waiting for the house elf to fix their tea. Malfoy manner was a tomb without Narcissa sweeping through or Lucius kicking the elves. Sunk in the sofa opposite him, Draco looked drawn, thin and defeated.

"How have you been keeping yourself, Draco?" Severus took his bone china saucer and sipped.

Draco shrugged, "Well enough, I suppose. I've been thinking of going abroad. I'm just waiting until the worst of it is over." With the Dementors gone from Azkaban, they had taken to irreversible memory charms instead of kisses. His father was sentenced to obliviation next week, his mother should be out in five years with good behavior.

"It will have to wait." He said evenly.

Draco's eyes came up sharply, then narrowed. "Why? What do you want?"

Severus slid his saucer onto the table and watched his godson carefully. The aftermath of the war hadn't been kind to the Malfoys. Luckily, Lucius had moved most of their assets to muggle accounts before the final battle. Draco's fortune was in tact, even if the rest of his life was blown to hell. "Repayment of a debt. I was under the impression Malfoys always paid their debts."

Draco stiffened, "Of course we do. But I don't owe you anything."

Severus sneered, "Indeed?"

A spark kindled in those cold, blue eyes, and he jumped to his feet, "You betrayed my father!"

"I killed Dumbledore for _you_ because your mother asked it of me! Lucius did nothing and would have sacrificed you to the Dark Lord. Still you defend him!" Snape hissed.

Draco shrank, biting a nail, but said nothing.

"Think, Draco!" He straightened his waistcoat and continued smoothly, "With or without me, the Dark Lord's downfall was imminent. It was only a matter of time. As painful as it may be for you, your father's change of heart came too late to help even himself."

"Only by the grace of your mother and I, _you_ are the Malfoy head of house now. Does the Malfoy house still pay it's debts, sir?"

Severus threw a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the table in front of him.

Draco rolled his eyes and picked it up, skimming the newest article smearing Ron Weasley. "What's this?"

Severus sipped his tea, "A chance to repay that debt."

_-**}{**-_

The Three Broomsticks was crowded for a Tuesday night. Rosmerta bustled past with a tray full of poisonous looking blue drinks. Severus sat in the back corner facing the door sipping his whiskey. He had the hood of his cloak pulled snugly up to hide his features.

He'd considered not showing, but he'd only been out of custody a few days, and he still hadn't figured what Granger was playing at except for professional suicide.

Across the bar Yarrow had tossed back a few too many. He was waving the latest Prophet- the second one this week with Granger's love life plastered across the front – telling any wizard who'd listen how he'd 'put his wand in her cauldron' before the week was out.

Severus fingered his wand, deciding against it. It was too public.

Rita Skeeter bustled in wearing a tight lime green suit under an open magenta robe. Her smile was predatory as he greeted her.

"Severus! You came!"

He stood and gave a slight bow, "Of course."

Seating herself she dug in her bag, pulling out her Quick Quotes quill and a parchment notebook. "And look at you! All brooding and dangerous back here in a dark corner."

Rosmerta hustled over, "What'll ya have?"

He waved his hand across the table and raised an eyebrow at Skeeter.

Instead of the light twittery voice she'd adopted for him, Skeeter growled out, "Ogden's neat with a Butterbeer chaser." When Rosmerta turned on her heel, Skeeter put a simpering look on her face again, "I went by your place earlier, thinking it might be a bit cosier, but it looks like you've moved out."

"Too many unwanted visitors." He sipped his whiskey and gave her a twist of his lips.

"I told those nosy gits over at the Quibbler to leave you be!"

"And, I am in your debt, madam. But these were not reporters, simply people who still believe me to be a Death Eater."

"Oh, posh! We'll take care of that!"

Across the room Yarrow's crude comments continued to put Severus's hackles up. He leaned in, giving her his best smile,"Miss Skeeter, I was wondering if you know anything about that man at the bar."

She craned her neck to see, "Yarrow? The loudmouth Law Enforcement creep?"

He nodded.

"What's to tell? Lives in Godric's Hollow. Wife. Six kids. Just got promoted or some such. Still trying to track down who's wand he's yanking at the Ministry to get promoted ahead of his peers."

"Interesting."His black eyes watched Yarrow making a rude gesture to his friends then laughing.

Rita watched Severus's face for a second, then glanced back at the bar. "Think there's a story there?"

Severus gave a slight shrug. "I have no idea."

Rita stuck a nail between her teeth and thought for a moment. "Now let's talk about this whole big scary Death Eater reputation of yours. Hermione had some rubbish idea of turning you into a hero. These days it seems like we're hip deep in heroes. It just wouldn't work. But..." She stuck the point of her quill in her mouth and sucked on it, looking at him suggestively.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She set her quill on the notebook "I have a better idea." She turned to her quill, saying clearly, "Testing. This is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter." The quill scribbled madly in reply and she gave a satisfied smile.

Rosmerta slid Rita's drinks on the table, took his order for another and melted back into the crowd.

Rita took a hasty gulp of her whiskey before turning back to him, "We're going to turn you into a sex symbol."

He blinked, then reached for his glass and downed it in one.

She reached her clawed hand across the table and gave his forearm a squeeze. "Oh, Severus, don't be such a prude! Witches love a bad boy, and when you get the witches, you'll win them all."

Rosmerta dropped off his refill and he downed this, too. "Indeed?"

Her claw drew little flirty circles on the table between them as she looked up from under her lashes, "First we'll need to answer the age old question. So tell me, Severus darling, word is wizards with big noses have a big..."

He signaled for another drink and turned back to her with a predatory smile of his own.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: My stay in Utah is over. I'll be traveling for the week, but I'll write as much as I can and post it all next week. If you 'follow' the story, you'll be notified as soon as I post. Here's a tiny bit of what's to come as a thanks for your patience, and I promise I'll make it worth it. :)**

**-elvee**

* * *

Chapter Six

Hermione sighed, took a swig of rapidly cooling tea and stepped over the mounds of mail on her study floor. Now that the howlers had all gone off, sometimes three at once, she was tempted to burn the lot. She and Ginny had sampled the first hundred or so while she was still in her room at the Leakey Cauldron. Thirty percent were from supportive witches, another forty were from wizards proposing marriage, ten percent were vulgar suggestions on what the writers would like to do to her (mostly unsigned) and another ten were magical mail bombs of things from confetti to bubotuber pus. The last ten were Howlers.

Rita's help was... less than helpful sometimes. She was sorely tempted to burn the lot.

Unfortunately, she couldn't. Somewhere, buried in hundreds of useless letters were the answers to the fifty she'd sent out trying to drum up support for the Lupin Werewolf bill. Maybe Ginny or Harry would come over later and help her go through them.

She stood out the window and looked at the early morning sun across her garden. The one bright point in her week had been seeing Luna. She'd had no idea where she was going to go after she left the Burrow, and as reasonable as the Leakey was for an inn, it was still rapidly draining her purse.

Luna said a benefactor who was out of the country had heard of her troubles and had an empty cottage in Hogsmeade. She tried to get her to sign a lease paying no rent at all, but when Luna refused to divulge who owned the place, something didn't feel right in Hermione's gut. But honestly, she didn't have a lot of options. Her job with the Ministry had just started and she simply didn't have the gold to buy a place of her own or scrounge up the deposits for another rental.

"Oh, just sign it." Luna had said. "It's a nice place, and you can drop out of sight for a while." Ron showing up drunk and serenading her window in the middle of the night had been the last straw. Hermione had signed it, but insisted on paying at least a hundred galleons a month. Luna had handed her a parchment, saying if any issues came up with the property to write them down. The owner had the twin, and they would receive the message and reply.

To say it was a nice place was an understatement. It was tiny, just one bedroom, a study, a sitting room and a kitchen. When she first took the floo in, she'd found it spotlessly clean and tastefully furnished with a full larder. There were fresh flowers in vases throughout the house. And the gardens! They may have been small, but they were a gated riot of blooms, with roses and lavender and even a few more useful herbs for potions. In short, it was perfect.

After moving her things in and letting Crookshanks out into the garden, she'd taken a moment and scribbled on the magical parchment. "It's perfect. Thank you."

A few moments later a reply came, appearing one letter at a time, until the words formed, "Enjoy your new home, Miss Granger."

She only had a day until she was due back at work. Sinking into her desk chair, she pulled the first sack of letters over. She lit the fire in the hearth and tore open the first envelope. Her eyes darted across the parchment and she pulled a disgusted face. She tossed the letter into the fire and grabbed another. It was going to be a long day.

_-**}{**-_

The next morning at the Ministry, Hermione sat at her desk in the broom closet. She'd been told it was only available space on the floor, and it was only temporary until they could get the Magical Maintenance crew in to expand the office by another few feet. Every few hours one of the janitorial staff would come in and shuffle back out with a bottle of cleaner. She'd been thrilled to get her own office until she found out it didn't have a window, only one dim light source and reeked of Magical Mess remover.

Flemming called her into his office. She grabbed the stack of letters, more than enough to guarantee the Werewolf legislation, struggled out of the tight space behind her desk and down the hall. She knocked on the open door frame, "You wanted to see me sir?"

His eyes flashed and his mustache bristled as he pursed his lips. "Yes. Come in and close the door."

She stepped inside and gently swung the door shut. He didn't invite her to sit.

"Miss Granger, it has come to my attention that you have been using rather unorthodox methods to solicit votes for your legislation. Did you send this letter to Yardin Merrimount?" He poked a piece of parchment across his desk toward her.

She took it and scanned it quickly. "What of it, sir?"

He turned red under his mustache. "What of it?! You threaten him with exposure for things he did two years ago! We do not extort votes!"

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes and said tightly, "It is not extortion. Under Ministry law 3-27 subsection b extortion is defined as..."

"I do not care what the law is!" He rammed his fist onto his desk, turning over his tea cup. "I already told you we are too vulnerable to..."

"Sir, all of the information I uncovered about each of these Wizengamot members is readily available in the Wizengamot archives. It is public knowledge for anyone who chooses to look for it. Neither you nor anyone else can punish me for it. Going to the press with the facts strung together is my right. The public has a right to know and decide for themselves whether they want these people in office. If I choose to take my findings and demand answers from each voting member myself, that is also my right."

Flemming was turning purple as he spluttered, "You cannot possibly think that enclosing information about the new legislation you have drafted is not seen as coercion!"

"It was sent, as I conveniently mentioned in my letter, as an example of legislation that should be supported both in letter and in spirit. As you can see, I have received the support I needed, and the legislation will be passed at the end of the week."

"Received the support?! Of course you received the support! Never in a thousand years would I have thought you would use such underhanded tactics as..."

"Delores Umbridge?" She offered sweetly. "Minister Scrimgeour? Miranda Blount? Thomas Yaxley? Percy Weasley?"

"Enough!" Ha banged his fist again and the rest of his tea dribbled off the edge of his desk..

Her temper was beginning to get the better of her. "No, sir, it isn't. I regret having to stoop to such levels, but these are the methods that work. This is important legislation, and I'm not going to have it buried by bigotry, prejudice and nepotism. Four years of Umbridge's ridiculous laws have left the werewolf population oppressed and destitute. I've managed to do in a week what you couldn't in four years. You may call my methods questionable, Mr. Flemming, but you can't call them ineffectual."

"You may stay until after the vote Friday, Miss Granger."

She blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You're fired!" Flemming roared. "Now get out."

_-**}{**-_

Minerva McGonagall sat in the Headmaster's office with her head in her hands, and sighed, "Oh, Miss Granger, you didn't!"

Hermione's hands were in her lap and she stared at them as she replied, "I did, Professor."

Minerva sat up straight and took a deep breath to settle herself, "And what are your plans now? You'll need employment, of course."

She squirmed in her chair, "That's why I'm here, I was wondering if you had..."

Minerva pursed her lips, "I'm afraid I don't. At least not anything you're qualified for. I have an opening for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but we both know that was never your strongest subject. The Ministry may have given you a pass on taking your N.E.W.T.s, but that is far from receiving the grades that you would have gotten on your own and you're far too young to teach."

Minerva crunched the corner of a biscuit thoughtfully, "Have you considered becoming a spokeswitch? I'm sure there are any number of companies that would gladly give you a decent stipend for..." She trailed off, giving Hermione a measuring look and sighed, "I suppose not."

"Oh, Professor! What am I going to do?"

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted them. Minerva said, "Come in."

Professor Flitwick, drenched from head to toe, poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt Minerva, but we have sprung a rather large leak in the dungeons. We're up to three feet and rising!"

Minerva sprang to her feet, saying quickly, "Give me a day or two, Miss Granger. I'll owl you."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Oh, happy day! Got a break at a cafe with wireless so here we are. (told you I'd be writing for you! :)) Thank you to all of the kind souls that left a review, favorited or followed this story! And the plot thickens...**

* * *

Chapter Seven

A Fistful of Sickles

Ron Weasley hung his head miserably over his tankard. He started drinking right after he found out Hermione had left. He had no idea where she'd gone and no one would tell him anything. So the mead began to pour.

And pour.

And pour.

"Tom!" Ron hiccuped, then slurred some more clapping his empty wooden tankard on the table, "How 'bout another? You got thirsty wizards over here!"

Someone blurry and blonde slid into the booth across from him just as Tom thumped another tankard in front of him. "This is the last one, Mr. Weasley, then home you get to sleep it off."

Ron scoweled at Tom's retreating back then slupped his mead.

"How the mighty have fallen, Weasel King."

"Who's there?" Ron struggled to focus, then seeing Draco Malfoy, pulled a face, "Go 'way, Malfoy, Or I'll hex you." He pointed his wand – handle first- across the table.

"Easy with that or you'll hurt yourself." Draco slowly brushed Ron's wand aside.

"What would you care?" Ron hiccuped, reducing the power of his glare.

"You saved my life. Unfortunately, I owe you."

Ron giggled, "I also punched you."

Draco took a moment and composed himself before saying, "I hear you and Granger are quits." Ron glared and took another drink, sloshing some on the table. "Doesn't make sense to me at all. Wizards have needs. She should know that."

Ron just shrugged and stared morosely into his drink.

"She just wasn't raised as a wizard..."

Ron's wand came back up to point the handle at Malfoy's nose as he hissed, "If you call her a mudblood, I swear I'll..."

Malfoy brushed his wand aside again, "I only meant that muggle-borns are raised differently. Wizards have needs, and even though you were probably intending to marry her, she still had her honor. She should have let you wave your wand around a bit."

"I woulda married her, too. Had the ring picked out an ev'rything."

"You were doing _her_ the favor." Draco clapped him on the shoulder. "Witches! Won't they ever learn?"

"Yeah!" Ron slurred, "Witches!"

"But you're a free wizard now, Weasley. Free to come and go and wave your wand around any old way you like. With whatever pretty witch turns your head."

Ron slumped in his seat, and said miserably, "But I want 'Mione."

"Fine. Have it your way. What you need to do Weasley is make her jealous."

"Jealous? Are you out of your bloody mind? She'd hex me into next week!"

"Or..." Draco pulled out the word until Ron met his eyes, "She'll see what a great catch you are and fall right back into your arms. I mean look at you! Old family, good breeding stock, fairly..."Draco coughed, "good looking. She'd be a fool not to."

"A fool. Yeah, a fool."Ron rose straighter in his seat, his pride growing, "You really think it will work? She knows more hexes than both of us put together."

"Of course it will work! And I know just the witch."

"It isn't Millicent Bullstrode, is it? Cause Draco, she's kinda a cow." Ron asked in a dramatic whisper, the mead clearly doing his thinking for him.

"Of course not! Just leave everything to me."

* * *

Severus took leave of the booth directly behind Ron Weasley and Draco, dragging his sample box with him. He paid the bill at the bar and went out into Diagon Alley, heading directly for Boffit's Apothecary.

The door swung open and a bell tinkled in the back. Severus slid his case on the counter and undid the hasps, lifting the lid to the wooden box.

A dumpy little wizard appeared from behind a curtain, "Professor Snape... well, Mr. Snape, I suppose now. Good to see you. How can I help you?"

"Boffit, I have come to enter into a business relationship with you. As one of only two Potion Masters in wizarding Britain, I thought we might come to an accord."

Boffit looked hesitant, "I already carry Harold Blount's wares."

"Of course. And I am well aware that you overpay for them, leaving your margins desperately thin."

Boffit looked taken aback, "How could you possibly know that?"

"I also see that you only stock certain potions. You lack Wolfsbane." He pulled a golden vial out of the case and offered it to him. "White wax." He took a chunk of what looked like white paraffin out of his case. "Anyworld Apparition Solution." He took another vial filled with an iridescent solution. "And many more."

He slid the case across the counter and continued smoothly, "I have been selling Wolfsbane at twenty-five galleons a dose for the past two years. The market is strong, and the werewolves will pay it. Anyworld Apparition Solution is not offered for sale anywhere else in Europe. I checked. Neither is White Wax. You could charge as you like."

Boffits white eyebrows knit together as he frowned, "If you're already selling them, why are you here?"

"I only sell the wolfsbane, and then only occasionally. I find dealing with customers and owls tedious."

Boffit looked over the samples, "What label are you going to put on them?"

Severus retrieved a folded piece of parchment from his robe pocket and slid it across the counter.

Boffit read the Ministry license out loud, "Cauldron to Cup, eh? Clever. No offense, but some customers might be uneasy were your name on the label." He handed the parchment back. "Well, seeing as I already get the most popular potions from Harold Blount, I'll take the..."

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Boffit. If you stock my potions, you won't be stocking his."

Boffit sputtered, "But... I've done business with Harold Blount for thirty years and his wife is on the..."

"Wizengamot." Severus finished for him with a smirk, "I know. There are, after all, only two of us."

Boffit picked up the iridescent vial, "Anyworld Apparition, truly a potion to let you apparate wherever in the world you wish in one spell?"

Severus gave a smirk and a nod, "The only ones in Europe.I could give you ten vials a month at say three hundred galleons each, that should fatten your margins nicely." Severus gave a calculated hesitation, then snatched the sample case back across the counter and began stuffing his samples back in. He plucked the wolfsbane potion directly from Boffits hand, "But if you're not interested, I am certain that Tanders Apothecary in Hogsmeade would..."

Boffit stared hungrily at the case, "No. No. I'm interested. Been trying to get Blount to brew wolfsbane for ages."

Severus gave a smirk, "I thought you might be."

"But what do I tell Harold Blount?" The little wizard wrung his apron.

"Thankfully, that is not my problem." Severus slid his price sheet across the counter and they settled in to haggle.

* * *

The next morning at Chalk Cliffs three owls flapped through the window while Severus ate breakfast. The first was an unfamiliar magazine with a note attached:

_Sev-_

_Thought you might appreciate a sneak peek before it goes to press. Have a date for the Order Ball yet? Let me know!_

_Yours,_

_Rita_

_Ball?What ball?_ He frowned setting the magazine aside and handing the owl a treat from the canister on the side board. He untied the next one. This one had a silver ribbon wrapped around it. He tugged the end and broke the seal.

_Your presence is humbly requested at _

_the _

_First Annual Order of the Phoenix Victory Ball._

_Thursday evening, 7PM_

_Hogwarts Great Hall_

_You may bring a guest if you desire._

_Please R.S.V.P. by return owl_

_Formal Dress is required.._

_Minerva McGonagall, Secretary, Order of the Phoenix_

_Apparently this ball. _Severus rolled his eyes. He scribbled that he would attend, quite alone. He'd only show long enough for a few people to see him. He gave this owl a treat and shoved it back out the window to return to Hogwarts.

The third letter had his name scribbled on it in familiar copper plate handwriting. What could Minerva want?

_Severus,_

_I hope you are settling in well. It has come to my attention that someone of our mutual acquaintance is in need of a position. I was wondering if you'd consider taking an apprentice or an assistant? Or perhaps know of any N.E.W.T. Level positions available?_

_And as Slughorn simply refuses, we'll also need to come to some sort of agreement to purchase our necessary potions from you. The standard yearly stock should do nicely, just send me an invoice._

_Minerva _

Apprentice? He'd just gotten used to the blissful idea of nights in front of his own fire with his feet up instead of creeping around Hogwarts patrolling the halls. Apprentice, ha!

Then it hit him. Along with the sizable monthly order he had already promised Boffit, he'd still have to brew everything for Hogwarts. The school order alone took two solid months. He would need an assistant. Then there was the more complex potion work he did for St. Mungo's, sometimes requiring him to create a specialty potions on the fly. He'd been doing it for years, of course, it was the best way to supplement his abysmal Hogwarts income. He couldn't just abandon his oldest client.

He hesitated. When Minerva said 'someone of our mutual acquaintance' without naming names, that wasn't a good sign. It could mean Longbottom! He hadn't had a single student in the past decade he would consider worthy of an apprentice. But if he was to fulfill his debt to Granger, he had to put Blount out of business. Merlin's tits and teeth!

He began tallying the ingredients for three hundred doses of calming draught, one hundred doses of Skele-Gro, thirty doses of blood replenishing potion and thirty more of dreamless sleep, along with several vats of antiseptic and knew he was in trouble.

He'd need and assistant who could do more than just distinguish between his arse and a cauldron opening. He needed one yesterday, but he'd settle for one dropping out of the floo right now.

Barring that, he took out his quill and scribbled a hasty reply:

_Minerva, _

_I have an immediate need for a N.E.W.T. certified assistant. I am willing to pay five hundred galleons a month plus room and board. However, I reserve the right to interview, hire and fire my own employees. I will not be considering an apprentice at this time. Please forward the C.V. and I will take your charity case under consideration._

_Severus_

"Poe!" Severus bellowed. When the great raven scrabbled on to his breakfast table, he deftly took out a sickle and pressed it to the table. "Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall."

After the raven had flapped out the window, Severus went to the second story and opened a window. A great nest perched in a rooftop corner. He dipped his hand in the nest and grabbed out a fistful of sickles, shoving them in his pocket He had a nagging feeling he'd be sending many letters over the next few days.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Oh Hermione, how do you manage to get into so much trouble? **

* * *

Chapter Eight

Hermione dragged in the door to Rose Cottage and dumped her bag in the nearest chair. Now what the hell was she going to do? She'd earned exactly two hundred galleons per week at the Ministry. How was she going to top that and find a new position? She thought Professor McGonagall might know something, but when that came up empty, she's popped by a news stand in Hogsmeade on her way home to pick up the paper.

Thank goodness she found this low rent cottage. If she was careful she could hold out for a month or two. She went into the kitchen, threw together some dinner and opened the back of her paper to the "Positions Offered" column and began to read.

By the time she'd finished her dinner, she'd rejected almost every entry, including: _breed nifflers at home for fun and profit, temporary: mandrake repotter ( just until our old duffer comes back round), business opportunity: 100 rare cheese cauldrons for sale, topless barwitch wanted and human target wanted for private dueling school. _She'd circled only one: _intake clerk wanted for busy bookstore._

She sighed and crumpled up the paper. She turned to the stack of mail on her table and pulled out the _Witch Weekly _magazine. Professor Snape was plastered on the cover with the title: _Severus Snape: Sexy, Smart and Oh, So Bad! _Hermione groaned and thumbed through the magazine.

She skimmed the article, choking on phrases like: _"Ladies, with those come hither bedroom eyes, and fine boned fingers that look like they'd play you all night, Severus is the last word in sexy!"_ and _"Tall, dark and mysterious, he tells this reporter that he likes long walks in the evening and playing hard in his very own dungeon."_ To Hermione's horror, Skeeter had included a contest.

"_Win a Date with Witch Weekly's Sexy Wizard of the Week Severus Snape! Just tell us in two hundred words why you think you'd be his perfect witch. Severus himself will be choosing the winner, so include a photo, ladies, and good luck!"_

How in the hell did Rita Skeeter get her hooks into...Oh no. It couldn't be. Not the day in the Wizengamot. Surely he would have known the truce wasn't meant for him? Or did he?

Hermione thumped her forehead on the table.

* * *

On Friday, Hermione busied herself packing the few contents of her desk. She stuffed it all into a small box, applied a shrinking and featherweight spell and shoved it in her pocket. She grabbed her litigation docket and was about to head down to the Wizengamot meeting when there was a light rap at the door.

She called, "Come in."

In the door frame stood two tall witches, one in light blue robes and one in red. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione gave them a polite but blank look, "Yes?"

"My name is Esmeralda Kniffit, this is Caroline Creedle. We just wanted to meet you." They poked out awkward hands, and Hermione shook them.

Esmeralda said, "I just want to thank you for pushing this legislation through. My son was bitten four years ago. Giving him a chance to go to school..." She misted up and sniffled, "I can't tell you what it means to him."

Caroline hissed, "We heard what happened, about you losing your job and everything. We just thought you might like a few of us to walk with you."

Hermione smiled, "I would really appreciate it, thank you."

The witches backed out of the doorway to allow her to enter the corridor. She was surprised to find a large group of witches and wizards jostling to thank her and shake her hand. Most of them were wearing shabby robes. She shook hands with all who offered and shot a puzzled look back to the original two witches, "Are all of you werewolves?"

Esmeralda smiled, "Either us or one of our family. We're here to show you our support."

A middle aged wizard piped in, "And we'd be honored if you'd join us at our celebration tonight."

Hermione laughed delightedly, "I'd love to!"

Caroline put her arm around Hermione's shoulders and hustled her down the hall. "Don't want to be late, do we?"

The Wizengamot drew out the meeting as long as they could before introducing the Lupin Bill of Werewolf Rights. Hermione was waiting on pins and needles for Rita, luckily she ducked in right before the vote and gave Hermione a very public air-kiss greeting.

With puckered faces of distaste, the measure passed 49 to 12. A cheer rose up in Hermione's supporters and they ushered her out in a thrill of victory. Before parting with Rita in the hallway she passed her a sheaf of papers, saying under her breath, "I'm not going quietly. Here's everything I could find on Flemming."

Rita's eyes lit up, and she trotted out of sight with a cackle and a "I knew you had it in you, Hermione!"

Hermione followed her new friends out to a picnic area in Godric's Hollow. There must have been several hundred people at the picnic. There was food, magicked streamers and even a cake. Hermione ate, talked, laughed and danced. She had flowers woven into her hair and drinks pressed into her hands.

Near the end of the evening, a circle formed around a huge bonfire. A large man with feral golden eyes stood and the circle rumbled, then fell silent as he spoke, "Today was a very important day for us. Today we can go back to work." The crowd cheered. "Today our children can go to school." Another cheer. "Today those of us who never thought we could live in ordinary society will be able to have homes and families thanks to the subsidized wolfsbane potions." People raised their glasses and it took a long time for the cheering to subside this time.

"Remus Lupin," the big man continued, "Tried to convince my pack to fight in the last Wizarding War. I admit, I saw him more as an Omega Wolf, than one who had come to help us." He hung his head for a moment, then bellowed so all could hear, "I was wrong. Eventually he convinced us, and we fought that final day, although not at Hogwarts. But there were Death Eaters enough to go around, weren't there?" The crowd laughed.

"So today, we find that Remus Lupin has done another thing for this pack even after his death, he brings us this she-pup who dared defy the Death Eaters, this pup who honored Remus Lupin as friend and warrior – as we do, this pup who would take the bread from her own mouth so that we may put bread in our own. Hermione Granger, stand!" Hermione stumbled to her feet, shocked. "Your name will be written in our histories, your name will be sung in our songs, your name will pass the lips of all of our kind for generations to come. We honor you." The crowd was still and silent as the man bowed deeply to Hermione. The crowd stood and bowed as well.

The man straightened and gestured to a woman behind him. She handed him something as the rest of the pack stood solemnly. He stepped forward and asked her "Hermione Granger, she-pup, will you become an honorary member of our pack?"

Hermione's hands trembled as they flew to her mouth. In all her research for the bill of rights, she'd never even heard of such a thing. She nodded, gulped, then said quietly, "I...I am touched. Yes."

The man spread his hands and a small gold medallion dangled from a light, thin chain. "She honors us!" He spread the long chain over her head and the crowd around the bonfire went wild.

Esmeralda caught up Hermione's elbow and had to shout in her ear to be heard, "That's Thorne. I think you figured out for yourself, he's our pack leader."

Hermione nodded, but kept still as Esmeralda continued, "He would like to meet with you tomorrow, if it is at all possible."

Hermione turned her head and yelled in Esmeralda's ear, "I have a ball to go to tomorrow night, would something in the afternoon be alright?"

She nodded vigorously, "The sooner the better, I think. Can we come by after lunch?"

"Come for lunch and let me return the favor for all the food!" Hermione laughed.

Hooking her arm in Hermione's elbow, she drew her away from the crowd, "We didn't mean to ambush you. You must be tired, let me find Caroline and we will escort you home."

"I am tired, but I don't need an escort, I'm just heading home." Hermione patted her hand affectionately.

Esmeralda narrowed her eyes, and spoke softly, "Old hatreds run deep, Hermione. You made some powerful enemies today. If you aren't wary, you should be. I'll get Caroline."

Once Caroline was found, they apparated just outside the Three Broomsticks. Hermione led the way to her street but they had only gone a few steps when a voice behind her called, "Oy! Granger! Heard old Flemming gave you the tip!"

Rupert Yarrow slithered out of the shadows and began to follow them.

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, "It's old news, Mr. Yarrow. Good night to you."

"I'd like to give you _my_ tip, cheeky witch!" He jeered.

Hermione stiffened, but Caroline and Esmeralda had their wands at the ready. Esmeralda, her gray hair shining in the street lights, said evenly, "I think you'll find, Mr. Yarrow, you've had entirely too much to drink. Perhaps it is time you go home to your wife."

Caroline edged Hermione behind her as Yarrow edged closer. Caroline and Esmeralda closed ranks as Yarrow closed.

"This is none of your business, she-wolf. Stand aside." Yarrow was closing the gap with a scowl on his face, his wand ready. He didn't appear drunk at all. His eyes glittered with malice.

Esmeralda whispered to Hermione, "Take Caroline and apparate, he shouldnt find out where you live."

Hermione was stung, "I'm not going to leave you..."

"Go!" Esmeralda hissed.

Caroline grabbed Hermione's arm and they twisted away. Landing in Hermione's kitchen, she lit the lamps with a wave of her wand. Caroline ducked into the hallway, tossing back, "This is what Thorne was afraid of. You stay here."

Hermione heard the front door open and close. She moved into the dark living room to look out on the front gate. Aurors were nothing to mess with, she only hoped the two witches could handle him.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Everyone thank the great state of Iowa for free wi-fi at its rest areas! Iowa is definitely outstanding in its field! So are my readers, reviewers, followers and favorites! Your feedback is what keeps me seeking out a place to post everyday. Anywho... lots to go yet. A major plot anchor here. Ten is almost done. :) Enjoy! -elvee**

* * *

Chapter Nine

The Last Word in Sexy

After the two women had come back it was after two in the morning.. They made a floo call arranging for additional security before they finally went home to bed.

At seven o'clock Crookshanks was biting Hermione's nose. She came awake reluctantly, and probably said a few things to him that she shouldn't. She stumbled into the shower, then dumped a can of tuna into his bowl to make up for it. He was right, of course, she couldn't afford to be late.

She took a quick peek out the window, looking for the two wizards who had stepped through the fire last night. With no time to feed them, she'd intended to at least invite them to help themselves. After checking several windows, she decided they must have already gone home.

She managed to beat back her hair into a long braid down her back, threw on a no-nonsense set of navy robes and stepped into the floo to Diagon Alley.

Two hours later she ducked back into her own kitchen. Seventy five galleons a week?! You couldn't feed Crookshanks on seventy five galleons a week! And it included nights, weekends and holidays! The nerve! She'd taken it, of course, simply because she didn't have much choice, but she'd keep looking. Maybe Professor McGonagall will have something.

She took a roast out of the larder and set it in the oven, spicing it heavily. She had no idea how many people were coming when Thorne showed up at eleven, so it was better to fix enough to feed a crowd. She threw together whipped potatoes, fresh crusty bread, carrots and grated some horseradish. When she glanced up at the clock it was ten-thirty. She checked the roast and used her magic to speed it up a bit.

She might not be great at household charms, but she was a dab hand at cooking, at least the muggle way. It took a little longer, sure, but it lacked the aftertaste that magical cooking had.

Hermione wiped down the counters, set the sideboard for a crowd, and was just wiping her hands when the hearth flared green, a thin faced woman she'd never seen before poked her head in the fire, "Miss Hermione Granger?"

She smiled, "Yes?" As the woman unfolded herself from the hearth, she took a few steps back,. "Um, can I help you?"

The woman trundled a huge box out of the hearth, straightened and waved her wand both over herself and the huge box. She pushed a clipboard into Hermione's hands, "Wand here, please."

Hermione blinked, then waved her wand over what looked like a delivery receipt. When she was done, the woman grabbed the clipboard and shoved the box at her. She stepped back through the fire so quickly she didn't even have to use a second handful of floo powder.

Whatever was in the box, it was light. She slid it on the kitchen table and used her wand to cut the twine. She lifted the flaps, then parted the tissue. Her breath caught. It was an evening gown. It shimmered a soft platinum. It gathered at each sleeveless shoulder with two ornate gemmed pins. She turned it around, and blushed seeing the back. It was cut rather low. But, oh Merlin! It was breathtaking.

She dug through the box, but eventually found a small note on the kitchen floor. She opened the slip of parchment and read: _Have a wonderful time tonight_. That was it, no signature, no nothing.

She didn't have time to wonder as Thorne stepped through the kitchen hearth. Esmeralda popped through, then Caroline and two more wizards she didn't know. Her table only had four chairs, but she transfigured enough to at least give everyone a seat as they started the luncheon.

When lunch was over, Terry and Marcus, the two wizards she hadn't known before they had lunch, went outside, and to her disbelief, the two wizards from last night stepped in. "I didn't..." She blurted, "I was going to feed you breakfast, but I didn't see you." She blushed at her bad manners.

Thorne gave her a warm smile and chuckle as he patted her shoulder, "You're not supposed to see them, Hermione. That's the point."

Hermione fussed over them, loading their plates and making room at the table. They laughed at her, but each, in turn gave his report to Thorne. "I saw him come down the main street, but he didn't get anywhere near the house. Esmeralda having them apparate was a good idea. He might not know where she is, but he's still looking."

Hermione's eyes went wide, "What?! That's impossible! He was just drunk and I happened to be wandering by."

Esmeralda shook her head, "After I saw you safely back, I had a little talk down at the Three Broomsticks with Rosmerta. Looks like this creep Yarrow has been shooting his mouth off about you at the bar, ever since you were in the papers."

"But that... it doesn't make any sense. He's an Auror. He's Harry's boss! He..."

Thorne silenced her with a look, "One predator knows another, she-pup" He turned back to the others, " Any idea what he might be after?"

"It's pretty tangled up right now, there could be several motives. He is cousins with Miranda Blount. There was the legislation. We also can't rule out the fact he may just be a creep. And that's just what we know."

Thorne growled low in his throat, "I don't like it. Caroline, you and Thomas head back and put a detail together. Quietly." Caroline stood with a curt nod and she and one of the exhausted wizards stepped through the floo. When the green flame crackled out, he turned back to Hermione, "Until we figure out what's going on, you're going to be escorted everywhere you go."

She blinked, "But, I have work and tonight I have the Order Ball."

"And you'll go." Thorne said firmly. "We can't afford any changes to your schedule until we know what's going on. But you're our best hope, and we're not going to let anything happen to you."

"Best hope?"Hermione whispered.

"That's what we originally wanted to talk to you about." He magicked his dishes into the sink.

Esmeralda patted her arm, "The legislation is brilliant, Hermione, don't get us wrong. But how many people do you know that can brew wolfsbane?"

She thought about it, "Just one. Professor Snape."

Thorne sat back in his chair and folded his arms, "There are two in wizarding Britain. Snape and Blount."

"B-blount? You mean Miranda Blount?" She stuttered, understanding dawning.

"Her husband, she-pup, but close enough. They share the same prejudices." Thorne agreed quietly.

Her hands covered her mouth, "So even with the subsidy, there won't be enough wolfsbane potion to go around?"

Esmeralda smiled at Thorne, "I told you she was quick."

He grunted at her, then turned beck to Hermione, "As I'm sure you know, not many of us had a formal education. We've tried to brew it ourselves, and it was a disaster. We know you were a student of Professor Snape, and we were hoping our pack could pay for an apprenticeship for you to learn how to create the potion." He looked slightly embarrassed, "We are not a wealthy people, Hermione. But we are willing to do without if it gives us a chance."

Hermione blanched, "That... I'm afraid that won't be possible." She turned away, straightening the kitchen. She barked a laugh, "Besides, if I know Professor Snape, I'd have to become a full Potions Master for him to teach me the recipe."

Esmeralda took the kitchen towel from her hands, "But you saved his life. If there was ever a good time to ask..."

Hermione shook her head sadly, "Professor Snape wouldn't take me on as a student. Find me another teacher and I promise I'll try."

"There is no one else." Thorne growled.

Esmeralda clasped her shoulder from behind, "What ever happened between you, I'm sure..."

She started cleaning with a fury, biting back the tears, "It's private. I'm sorry. I'm not going to discuss it." Vaguely she could tell Esmeralda and Thorne were exchanging looks. After a shuffle of chairs, she heard the floo roar.

When she turned back, Esmeralda sat at the table with a soft smile, "Don't worry. We'll figure something out."

"You're still here?"

"Of course, girl! What did you think? We'd leave you to get attacked just because we hit a snag? Posh!" Esmeralda checked her watch, "Don't you have a ball to get ready for?"

"Oh!" She dropped the towel and was out of the kitchen before it finished fluttering to the ground.

Almost two hours later she was twirling in front of her mirror. The dress had to be taken in a bit here and there, but Esmeralda was quick to make the corrections and now it fit like a second skin. The brooches that gathered the fabric at each shoulder glittered in the lamp light. The neckline was more daring than she'd first thought, but after Esmeralda swatted her hands away several times, she left it.

It was the plunging back leaving her bare from the bottom of her neck to just below her waist that made her truly uneasy. She'd transfigured an old pair of gloves to elbow length white satin. They were high enough to cover the slur carved in her forearm. She also put a color changing charm on a pair of four inch kitten heels that she'd worn with Ron to the Ministry's award ceremony. Meanwhile Esmeralda had put her hair up in a tight twist, leaving a few ringlets to trail down her neck.

Pulling back, they scrutinized their handiwork and Esmeralda laughed, "Ron Weasley, eat your heart out! You look like a goddess."

She couldn't argue. She felt like one.

Hermione was just shooing off the suggestion of taking one of her pack as an escort for the third time when a knock came from the front door. They exchanged a look, and Esmeralda caught the meaning in her eyes: she wasn't expecting anyone.

Esmeralda flattened herself beside the door and cast a disillusionment charm. Hermione straightened her dress, took a deep breath and opened the door. Her mouth fell open.

Professor Snape stood in the doorway in crisp black dress robes with a white cravat. "Good evening."

"Ah..." She swallowed hard, and opened the door wider to let him in, "Professor! Come in, please."

"You will excuse me arriving unannounced, but after reading the _Prophet_ I thought you might require an escort." His eye roved over her and she blushed.

"That was very kind of you, sir." She led him into the sitting room and turned to see Esmeralda melting out into the night.

"I believe the muggle custom is for an escort to bring flowers." He produced a white orchid and helped her slide it over her wrist.

"Professor, I...Yes, it is, thank you." She was grasping for words. She'd never seen him in dress robes before, and he cleaned up very well. Her mind kept going back to Rita's Witch Weekly article as she watched his fine boned fingers. She tore eyes away and forced herself to play hostess, "Can I get you a drink?"

"No, thank you. We should be going."At her hesitation, his eyebrow drew up, "Am I incorrect in assuming you don't have an escort?"

"What? No! This is just... rather unexpected, sir." She was blushing down to her belly button, she just knew it.

He gently took her numb hand and looped it over his arm. "Hermione, if you are going to accompany me to the ball, please call me Severus." He smirked, "Although you may also call me the last word in sexy, if you prefer."

When she dropped her eyes without replying, he continued smoothly, "We have much to talk about, I think. Shall we go?"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: OK, so I apologize in advance, a bit of a cliffie. Ten got far (!) too long, so the good news is eleven is half written and will be posted later tonight. Enjoy! Now imagine your outfits and meet us at the ball.**

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Chapter Ten

God Bless Ronald Weasley

Severus felt her fingers trembling on his arm. Gods! When he'd bought the gown he'd never envisioned just how lovely she would look. But he wasn't here for that, he reminded himself. Rosmerta had come back into the bar last night with a full account of the ugly confrontation in the street. He was here because she needed him, whether she'd admit it or not.

She whispered, "Professor, you didn't have to..."

"Gentlemen do not come to call unannounced and bring flowers because they have to, Miss Granger. I assure you, the look on Mr. Weasley's face when he sees you tonight will more than make up for it." She gave an honest laugh then and he laid his free hand over hers, "Perhaps it would best if you let me apparate us both."

She looked relieved at that, "Please." She allowed herself to be tucked under his arm and they twisted away.

She stumbled slightly on the landing and he pulled her into him, holding her firmly until she found her feet. "I'm sorry about Rita, sir."

"Severus." He corrected curtly.

An embarrassed smile appeared as she tripped over his name, "S-severus."

"Better." He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they began to walk up the drive.

"You are forgiven," he said evenly. "Provided you write an essay to the _Witch Weekly_."

"Thank...Excuse me?" She gulped.

"It will provide an equitable solution. You write the essay. I choose your essay and avoid the grasping harpies that make up Rita's readership"

"But, Sir- Severus, I..." He gave her his best glare and she relented with a nod.

He squeezed her arm, "Good. Now let's get up to the castle. I want to see Weasley swallow his tongue in jealousy."

Minerva and Kingsley were greeting the guests at the door. Minerva's lips pursed, "Severus. Glad to see you could make it."

Hermione released her grip on his arm, and he watched from the corner of his eye as Kingsley grasped both her hands in his, giving her a kiss on the cheek. He gave a slight formal bow to Minerva, "Good evening."

"You and Miss Granger?" The disbelief in her voice almost made him laugh out loud.

Severus let his eyebrow quirk up in reply.

Minerva let her eyes roll, and snapped primly, "Well, I am glad to see you two have reached an accord. I was worried about her finding..."

Hermione tugged her gloves back up then slid her hand back into Severus's arm, "Professor McGonagall! You look wonderful!"

"Miss Granger! How many times have I told you to call me Minerva?" Minerva gave her a cursory hug, "You are absolutely radiant. Just to warn you, Mr. Weasley is already inside. Ignore him and have a wonderful time. That boy didn't know a good thing when he had it."

"Thank you, Professor." She smiled warmly.

Stepping into the Great Hall, the long house tables had been replaced by smaller round party tables. Soft instrumental music played and a few couples danced. A house elf bobbed by with a tray of champagne held over its head.

"Champagne?" Severus grabbed two flutes, offering her one.

She took it with a smile and tapped the edge of her glass to his, "Thank you." Her eyes danced, and she whispered, "So, if I win the essay contest, is this still going to be considered our first date?"

That gave him pause, but he sipped along with her smoothly. "Always with the questions." They worked the room, allowing Hermione to greet her friends, and allowing his presence on her arm to shock them. He could almost hear Potter's teeth rattle as his jaw hit the floor. At least he had the good grace to plaster a smile across his face.

"Harry! Ginny!" Hermione squealed and embraced them.

Severus stood politely aside as the two ladies chattered. The soon to be Mrs. Potter was wearing a deep green gown to nice effect. With Hermione standing beside her, they looked like the most lovely pair of Slytherins. Hermione tugged at her right glove self-consciously. Severus's thoughts were interrupted when Potter poked his hand out, "Professor, good to see you."

Severus hesitated, then shook his hand. "You look well."

Potter shot a glance at the ladies, apparently making sure they were engrossed in conversation before speaking, "Thanks for bringing her. We didn't want her to come alone."

Severus smirked, if they didn't want her to come alone, they should have done something about it. He said smoothly, "The pleasure is mine, I assure you."

Potter leaned in, "Ron's been drinking." He followed Potter's line of sight to find Weasley hanging all over a petite brunette with startling delft blue eyes. "I'll try and keep him out of your hair. He's being a tremendous prat lately."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Potter, but I can handle Mr. Weasley."

Potter gave a short bark of a laugh, saying, "I'm quite sure you can." Severus let his smirk widen into a half-smile.

His eyes went sharp, seeing a flash of something over Potter's shoulder. "I thought this was an Order affair. What is the Ministry doing here?"

Potter craned his neck around, as subtle as a cat in heat, "They're off-duty security. Everything alright?"

"If you'll excuse me." It was time he kept her close. He grasped Hermione's hand and waited until she looked up at him. He brushed his lips across her gloved knuckles, "Would you care to dance?"

"Oh! Yes, thanks." Ginny wore a shocked face as Hermione handed her a champagne flute with a murmured, "Would you mind, Gin?"

"Uh, sure." She took the glass with numb fingers as Severus led Hermione away. A turn on the dance floor would give him a better view of the crowd.

Hermione looked surprised but pleased, "I didn't know you danced, Severus."

"There is much you don't know about me." He took her right hand in his and ushered her to the floor with his left in the small of her back. She settled comfortably into his arms and looked quite taken aback. "Is there something wrong?"

"No." She gave a breathy laugh, "I just didn't expect... You're a wonderful dancer." He twirled her round the floor, she was light as a feather in his arms. So many eyes were on the young lady he held in his arms, and for once in his life Severus knew what it was like to be the envy of every man in the room.

He bent close to her ear and whispered, "Smile now, here comes Mr. Weasley." He pecked her lightly on the cheek, making sure Weasley saw. The look on Weasley's face was pure murder, but he shifted his gaze in time to catch Hermione's blush. She smiled softly and leaned into him. The world almost fell away. Gods bless Ronald Weasley.

At the end of the song, he felt a tap on his shoulder, "Do you mind, Professor?" He turned to see Longbottom gesturing to dance with Hermione.

"I do mind. Go away." Severus growled, his hand curving more securely into her bared back. Longbottom looked at his shoes, then shuffled off.

"Severus!" Hermione laughed, "That wasn't very nice!"

He smirked, "It has been a long time since I have had a good dancing partner. I make no apologies."

On the next song, he lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, "You shouldn't cover your scars, Hermione. They're a mark of your courage. Wear them with pride."

She stiffened in his arms and wouldn't meet his eyes for a long time after that. When the music ended, they applauded politely, and she allowed him to lead her off the dance floor. "Would you like some air?"

"Please." The smile she gave him now was sad and wistful. She was flushed from dancing and pensive. The crowd probably wasn't doing her much good. He led her out into the garden, settling her on a bench.

She rubbed her right forearm absently and frowned.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken about it."

"No. It's alright." She sighed heavily and tugged down her glove in the fairy light. Her puckered scar was still raised, red and angry. "It was a cursed knife."

He took his fingers and rubbed it over her forearm. He frowned, "I should have killed Bellatrix when I had the chance."

"This one came from Dolohov," She tugged the right strap of her dress slightly off her shoulder. A broad, angry scar disappeared into the bodice of her dress. She held it there only a second before straightening her dress. "You couldn't kill them all."

His eyes were fixed on the clasp she'd just replaced on her right shoulder. "I should have done more."

She laid a hand along his cheek, only then did he look up. She gave a sad smile, "We did what we could, Severus. We did what we had to. We did..." she let her fingers trail down his neck to the edge of his bite scar, "what we thought was best." There was a note of bitterness at the end.

He captured her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "We are not just the sum of our scars, Hermione."

She swallowed hard then looked up into the night sky. He watched her profile as a wistful smile grew and she whispered, "My father always said the best revenge was living well. I think I finally know what he meant."

Couples crunched by on the gravel walkway. The rose bushes glowed with fairy light and the evening air was heavy with the scent of roses. Her hand was curled gently in his and she made no move to remove it, despite the odd looks they were getting.

"Who was that girl with Ron?" she wondered, searching the night sky.

It was his turn to stiffen, "I have no idea."

She giggled suddenly, tucking her free hand into his left arm and rested her head against his shoulder, "I hope they deserve each other."

"Indeed." He smiled at the stars.

They took a walk through the flowers and returned to their bench. After a moment he asked quietly, "Can I get you anything?"

"Yes, something to drink, if you wouldn't mind." He left her there, smiling to herself and looking up into the stars.

Once inside, he grabbed two flutes of champagne and ran smack into Weasley as he turned to go back to the garden. He raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Just what are you playing at, Snape?" Ron snarled.

He gave Ron's date a plainly disdainful look, "I could ask the same." He tried to brush past Weasley and return to the garden, but Ron grabbed his arm.

"You stay away from her!" His whisper reeked of alcohol.

Severus eyed the hand around his arm dangerously then leaned in and hissed, "Are you spoiling for a fight, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron glared at him, dashing his glass to the floor, and they squared off.

There was a muffled scream from the garden. Severus dropped the glasses and pulled his wand, sprinting for the door. Damn him for letting Weasley distract him!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: WARNING! ADULT SUBJECT MATTER!**

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**Sorry for the delay. The line for pitchforks and torches forms to the left. I got sick, then work was trying to beat the crap out of me at the same time. Not great timing. I know. Sorry for the cliffie, let's get on with the show and see if you still want to burn me in effigy at the end of the chapter, OK?**

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Chapter Eleven

Severus tore down the gravel path, his robes flapping wildly behind him. Ghost like white rose petals fluttered to the ground in his wake. He skid to a halt.

The bench was empty.

Vaguely he registered steps behind him, and he spun, a curse on his lips.

His jet of white light missed Weasley by an inch. The dunderhead started talking and Severus, his chest heaving, cut him off with a sharp glare.

He stood frozen, straining to hear anything to give him a clue. A long second passed where the only sound was the fountain splashing. His eyes frantically searched the area. Beneath the bench, he spotted a broken wand. He groaned inwardly.

"That's Hermione's..."

Severus flicked his wand at Weasley and wordlessly cast a silence spell.

Behind the bench, through the rose hedge, a low groan sounded. Using the bench as a vaulting point, he easily jumped the tall hedge, landing softly in the next row. His wand at the ready, he crept along the walkway, looking for signs of a scuffle.

This time her voice was high and compressed with effort, "Get! Off! Me!" He bolted ahead blindly following the sound of her voice. Then came a strangled, "Severus!"

He was closer now, perhaps just around the next bend.

He heard a low growl, "Little Death Eater Whore! You'll pay for that!"

Rounding the corner a jinx flew past him to fizzle in the hedge. He ducked involuntarily and took a knee behind the partial cover of the bushes. He couldn't get a clear shot. She stood between him and a man in dark blue robes kneeling at her feet. As he ran to her, he saw her level a wand on him and heard the beginning shout of, "Cruc..."

"Incarcerous!" Severus shouted causing Hermione to spin around. The sheer relief in her face made something wrench in his chest. Then her face crumpled with rage and she turned away from him.

She kicked him across the mouth with her high heel and yelled, "You bastard!" Pulling up the shredded top of her dress to cover herself, and let out a sob, "Severus!"

He pulled her to him in a fierce hug, never taking his eyes – or his wand- from the wizard on the ground: Yarrow. Severus's eyes narrowed in recognition. Yarrow gave him a sneer with bloodied teeth.

He pried her face away from his chest. "Are you alright?" Gods, she was bleeding. Her lip was split and her eye was swelling shut. Bruises were forming on her arms. He tugged off his cloak and draped it gently over her.

Weasley came spinning around the corner with his date in tow.

Severus pinned Ron's date with a quick look, "See to her." He motioned to Hermione. Once he knew the strange girl was looking after her, Severus dared take the few steps to close with Yarrow and grabbed him by the hair.

He lowered his wand between the man's eyes. Yarrow's smirk fell as his eyes flicked between the wand dancing between his eyes and the rage in in the black eyes inches from his own. Releasing his silence spell, Severus shouted to Ron, "Weasley get Minister Shacklebolt and Potter. Now."

He leaned in until his lips pressed against Yarrow's ear and promised very softly, "Today I will settle for ruining your life. You will not touch her again or I swear by all that you hold holy, your wife will weep when she sees what I've done to you!"

The need to cast a cruciatus curse surged in him, like anticipation of a high. Severus poked his wand into Yarrow's shoulder and there was a resounding crack as the bones shattered. Yarrow screamed. He certainly wasn't smiling now. Without removing his wand from the broken shoulder, he twisted it and Yarrow howled in agony. "Something to remember me by."

Hearing the gravel crunch behind him, Severus stood and turned to face Kinglsey Shacklebolt, Potter and McGonagall. All three had their wands out.

In response to her sob, McGonagall put her arms around Hermione, utter shock across her face, "What on earth?"

Severus strode forward and spoke in low tones to Kingsley, "He attempted to sexually assault Miss Granger."

Kingsley looked surprised, but Potter's face darkened and he pointed his wand, stepping forward. He put a hand on the young auror's shoulder. "Think, Potter," was all he said. To Severus's amazement, Potter stopped and looked to Kingsley.

"Harry, ask Minerva if you can use her office to floo for back up." Kingsley tried to hide his confusion talking softly, "Yarrow? I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it for myself."

Yarrow was blinking back tears of pain, even as he screamed, "Death Eater Wh..."

Severus flicked his wand and Yarrow fell silent.

"Mr. Weasley, get Poppy and meet us upstairs." McGonagall had Hermione tucked under her arm and leaned in to the two men, "We'll be in the infirmary."

Kinglsey nodded, "We're going to need a statement, but it can wait."

Hermione poked a short fat wand out to Kingsley, "Here's his wand."

Kingsley's eyebrows went up and he turned to her in disbelief, "You disarmed the Head Auror?" Seeing Minerva already towing her away, he turned back to Severus, "She...?"

Severus's face remained an impassive mask.

Minister Shacklebolt let out a ragged sigh, attempted to collect himself and said evenly, "Tell me what happened."

…

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…

After giving his statement, he made his way through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts to the infirmary. Weasley stood uncomfortably outside the door like a pathetic excuse for a guard. As Severus approached Weasley said, "I thought you were going to kill him."

He didn't even break his stride, his dark eyes flashing, his robes billowing in his wake. "Still up for an argument, Weasley?" He left the boy stammering in the doorway and strode into the ward.

_Death Eater whore. _Something clenched in his gut, but his face gave nothing away.

At the far end of the room a white curtain was drawn around a single bed. Lamp light flickered behind it. Poppy, Molly and Minerva were clucking like a bunch of angry hens.

"The Minister and Potter have just left. The grounds are secure." He couldn't help it, after nearly twenty years of serving Dumbledore, reporting in was ingrained in him and he hated it. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He stopped, pressing his eyes closed for a moment, then asked Poppy, "How is she?"

Poppy picked at the glass beads of her red dress, "She'll recover. A broken wrist, some nasty bruises and," her voice dropped off to a near whisper before finishing, "teeth marks."

He nearly sucked in a breath. He should've let her cast the damn crucio.

Poppy patted his arm, "All the bruising will be fine by morning. The wrist will take a few days to regain its strength, but it's been set and mended."

"And the... other?" He couldn't even bring himself to say it.

"They didn't scar, but several of them were fairly deep. I gave her a good pain killer and a calming draught. She's resting."

He ground his teeth and looked away for a moment.

Molly Weasley held up a change of muggle clothes, "Let me just go give her these. She'll want to cover up." She bustled behind the curtain and Severus watched her shadow settle into the chair by the bedside.

Minerva took this moment to pipe in, "I am so relieved you're going to be taking her on as an assistant. At least I know someone will be around to protect her."

Of course she'd need protection._ Death Eater whore. _

Temporarily distracted, he had to quickly replay her words. He almost froze, "Miss Granger was the student you were referring to?"

Minerva looked taken aback, "Of course. I thought since you brought her this evening, you had already discussed it."

Aside from a small flicker in his eyes, his countenance remained stoic, "No. I was awaiting your return owl with a name. Miss Granger already has a position at the Ministry."

Minerva's mouth pursed, "Not any longer. And I can't say I'm upset about it. She was working only a floor away from that animal, after all."

He frowned. His mind was whirring too fast to conceal it. "She spoke to you of this?"

Minerva stiffened into a stance that made her look like a proud bird, "Of course."

Molly reappeared from behind the curtain, "Poppy, if it's alright with you, I'll just take her home with us."

Poppy was about to reply when Severus spoke firmly, "No." All three witches turned to him with varying looks of disbelief.

"Your son has ensured she will not willingly return to the Burrow." Molly reddened, but for once in her life kept silent.

"I will take her to her own house," he continued smoothly. "I believe she will be most comfortable there. I will ensure she follows your instructions to the letter, Poppy."

"You can't possibly think that she would be more comfortable with a man after everything that's happened tonight." Minerva scowled.

"It was_ me_ she called for in the rose garden." This didn't appear to move any of the three witches, and he sighed, "We will ask her."

With that he took several long strides to her curtain, "Hermione?"

The clucking hens followed him.

"Severus?" Her reply was groggy and he could tell she'd been crying. He poked his head around the curtain. She was curled into a pathetic little ball, a handkerchief crumpled in one hand. When she saw him she dropped her chin and refused to look at him. The dress he'd paid three hundred galleons for was crumpled at the foot of the bed.

He grabbed it and shoved it at Molly, growling, "Burn this."

Minerva approached her bed and pasted on a smile, "It would seem you are a very popular young lady tonight. Molly has offered for you to stay at the Burrow with her and Ginny. Professor – er- Mr. Snape has said he will take to your house and look after you there. And of course, Poppy and I would be happy to have you stay here."

Hermione raised her head, brushing the wrecked remnants of her beautiful hair out of her eyes. She looked past Minerva and held her hand out, "Take me home, please, Severus."

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he brushed past Minerva and scooped her out of the hospital bed. "Of course."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: OK, we have to keep a few balls in the air in this chapter and get some important set up done. **

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Chapter Twelve

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In one easy motion Hermione was swept up, her arms clamped around his neck, her head tucked firmly under his chin. Without a word he carried her out of the infirmary, down the steps and to the gargoyle outside Professor McGonagall's office. Upon their approach, the gargoyle jumped aside without a password and she felt them riding the spiral staircase. His grip never faltered.

And she hated it.

She hated needing this from him. She was supposed to stay the hell out of his life. After what she'd done, nothing else was excusable.

But damn him, he was right, as usual. She couldn't have stood staying at the Burrow or even the infirmary. Having women – even women she loved and respected- fussing over her just made it worse. It all kept flashing back. His wand at her throat, the sound of him ripping her beautiful dress.

His mouth on her.

She shuddered involuntarily and his arms tightened in response. She felt his head tip down to look at her, but she couldn't meet his eye. With a slight shift of her weight, he tossed the powder in the hearth and carried her into the flames.

They stepped out into her cottage kitchen and he set her gently onto a chair. With an elegant wave of his hand a tea tray appeared before her. "Chamomile. Try to drink at least one cup. I will start a bath for you."

She had replaced his cloak around her after Mrs. Weasley had insisted on putting her in Ginny's clothes. She tugged it tighter around her and numbly watched the steam curl up from the spout of the teapot.

"Hermione! To me!" Professor Snape's voice was tight and commanding. Afraid?

Gods, were there more? With a start, she remembered she was wandless. A strangling panic rose in her throat as she darted out of the kitchen into the dark hall. She collided with him and he pinned her to his back, putting himself between her and whatever he was aiming at. His wand arm was outstretched in front of him, menacing the opposite end of the hall. She peeked between his elbow and ribs.

The hallway was empty.

He turned slightly and changed his grip, hugging her to his side as he backed toward the kitchen. He whispered urgently, "Be ready."

Her breath was coming in little gasps, "What is it, Professor? I don't see anything."

"Hermione!" A feminine voice hissed from the far end of the hall. "Oh thank the Gods!" Esmeralda melted into view as her disillusionment charm fell away.

Hermione went boneless with relief. Snape's wand never faltered.

Esmeralda took a step toward them, pocketing her wand. "We heard what happened."

"Miss Granger, do you know this woman?" His voice was tight with control.

Reaching over gently, she pressed her fingers to his wrist, saying, "Yes, Professor. She's a... friend."

Snape finally relented and lowered his wand, but she noticed he didn't put it away.

"Professor this is Esmeralda Kniffit. Esmeralda this is Professor Severus Snape." Hermione took her seat in front of the tea tray and began to pour. Eventually two more chairs scraped out and they sat down.

Severus eyed her but said nothing, so Esmeralda plowed ahead, "Are you alright?"

Hermione's hands shook as she tried to pour out the final two cups of tea. Professor Snape reached over and took the pot, replacing it on the tray firmly. "It is very admirable that you are concerned, Ms. Kniffit, but frightening Miss Granger out of her wits by sneaking into her home under a disillusionment charm is hardly comforting. As she is in my care, I will draw her bath. I suggest you leave before I return." With that, he rose from the table and stalked out of the kitchen.

Hermione grimaced, "I'm sorry."

"No. He's right." Esmeralda pulled her silver hair down from it's bun and quickly retied it. She blew out a breath, "He doesn't know about us, does he?"

Hermione shook her head and stared into the bottom of the half filled teacup.

Esmeralda gave a short derisive laugh, "I guess we're lucky he didn't kill one of us earlier out in the garden. Not many wizards can see through a disillusionment charm." The older witch reached across the table, grasping Hermione's wrist, "I'm just glad you're alright. It's probably for the best he's here." She glanced back at the hall, making sure it was still empty, then whispered, "Full moon in two days."

Hermione's eyes got wide and she couldn't help looking across the table in alarm.

Esmeralda laughed, "We weren't going to leave you to fend for yourself. We do have a few potions. But now that he's here, perhaps it's better if we lay low for a bit. Floo me when he leaves and you need us. We'll be here."

Loud boots sounded out in the hall and Esmeralda released Hermione's wrist with a fond squeeze. "I'd better go. We'll talk soon." She slipped out the back door into the night.

Professor Snape entered the kitchen, his boots now soft as silk on the hard wood floors. "Your bath is ready. I found an assortment of nightwear. I didn't know which you'd prefer, so I placed them all on the sink. Go. I saw your small stocks in the study. I'll prepare you a sleeping potion."

Hermione stood, her feet automatically going to the hallway. At the door frame she turned around and whispered, "You don't have to do this."

He gave a dismissive gesture, saying, "Go. I will bring you the potion when you are finished."

She lowered herself into the steaming water and stared unseeing at the water tap. She was watching the horrible memories flicker by: his teeth, kicking him in the balls to get the wand away from her throat, the desperate wrenching struggle for his wand. She had won, but it had been a close thing, so very close.

The tap dripped. She blinked. She spotted the soap and flannel he must have left for her, right by the edge of the tub. She grabbed them and began to scrub every inch of her skin. She felt so dirty, so very dirty. As she savagely scrubbed herself silent tears tracked down her face.

A soft rap on the door.

"Miss Granger?"

She scrubbed until the new skin over her healing wounds was red and irritated.

Another rap, louder this time, more insistent.

"Miss Granger?"

She scrubbed until the teeth marks bled.

"Hermione? I will need to come in if you will not answer."

Now how would she ever be worthy of the type of love Severus gave Lily Potter? She couldn't get clean enough to get rid of his hands, his teeth, his breath in her face as he sneered, _Death Eater whore_. She told herself she would stay away from Professor Snape. She should have turned him away tonight. She never should have gone. But she wanted what he'd given to Lily so many years ago, and he was the only one she knew that was even capable of giving it. Even if it wasn't to her. Gods, that was messed up.

A sob broke through her furious scrubbing.

"Hermione! Open the door!" The doorknob rattled.

The bathwater was tinged pink. Her teeth marks at left breast and her neck were bleeding freely and still she scrubbed.

The door crashed open. She didn't stop scraping at her skin with the cloth. She didn't look up.

He wrenched the cloth from her frantic hand and threw it against the wall. It hit the tile with a splat, then flopped to the floor, pink soapy streaks racing down the wall behind it. When he bent to take her from the tub, she could only manage a weak "No." before she fainted dead away.

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She was under a velvet blackness. It was soft, warm and comforting. She heard a pop from a fire and realized she was in a bed. Without opening her eyes, she sank further under the covers. There was a whisper of fabric and something was placed on the table beside her. She cracked her eyes open.

It was almost dawn. A chair had been pulled up by her bedside. A tall figure was silhouetted by the fire. She struggled against whatever potion was coursing through her veins, trying to drag her back under into that warm oblivion.

The figure shifted and the small oil lantern next to her bed guttered to life. Professor Snape was sitting in a hard chair, his collar undone and his sleeves rolled up. He looked drawn and haggard. He took a glass from the night table, offering it to her, "Water?"

She nodded, her head felt three feet thick. As he brought the cup over, she tried to reach out, but her fingers, her hands felt funny.

"Let me." He slid an arm under her shoulders and tipped the glass to her lips.

She took a swallow, still trying to get her hands around it. They were covered in heavy wool socks. She frowned softly, her features still groggy. She forgot about the water glass and tried to tug the socks off her hands.

"Leave them." He had put the water glass away, and was separating her hands from each other. He tugged the socks back to her elbows.

She settled back into her pillow and looked at him. His dark eyes were watching her face very carefully. Her brow wrinkled in concentration, thoughts were dancing just beyond her reach. Every time she tried to catch one, it would turn to mist. "Professor, I..."

"Rest now. We'll talk in the morning." His long fingers smoothed the hair from her brow. The darkness tugged at her, the soft warmth whispered promises of floating on nothing. With him there, she gave in and let the darkness claim her.

..

* * *

..

The sun was burning bright and golden through her windows. She shifted under the covers and her eyes blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the day light. The chair next to her bed was empty. She glanced at the clock on her bedside, it was just past eight.

Hermione sat bolt upright. "Oh gods! Work!" She was out of the bed like a shot, digging through her wardrobe in a frenzy. She couldn't be late on her first day.

A sharp knock sounded on her door, "Miss Granger?" Professor Snape was still here.

She yanked the socks from her hands, and let them fall. The blue robes or the brown? Gods, she wished she had a uniform. It was so much easier when she didn't have to choose.

The door cracked open as she was throwing the blue robes and a pair of sensible shoes out of her wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" His voice was clipped and tight.

She threw him a look, and dug through the drawers of her dresser. Knickers...knickers...

"I have to be to work in half an hour."

He shook his head, "That is unwise. You should be resting."

Hermione's voice was approaching panic, "Yes! Well! Bills to pay, you know." She realized she was in her pajamas. She drew on a dressing gown. The last thing she remembered was a bath. How...? She blushed.

He was frowning, "I will floo the Minister to make your regrets. Who is your supervisor?"

"No!" She squeaked. "No. I'll just go in for a few hours, Professor. I'm fine." Socks flew across the room to the pile on her bed. Gods, she didn't know why she couldn't just tell him. Somehow, she didn't want him to think less of her. From working at the Ministry, to a clerk in the back of a bookstore. How the mighty Griffindor had fallen.

He threw the bedroom door wide and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to stand still. "Stop this foolishness!"

She stopped, her fingers twisting together. She couldn't look at him.

"You no longer work for the Ministry. Where are you going?" His fingers gripped her shoulders firmly, but not harshly.

From somewhere deep within, her courage seemed to roar back, "I got a new job at Flourish and Blotts!" She twisted away from him and gathered her things. If he wasn't going to leave, she'd go into the bath and change.

His eyes flashed and he spat, "You would come out of your sick bed for a clerk position at Flourish and..."

"It was all I could find at short notice." Her voice was clipped, she stuffed her socks and shoes into the bundle in her arms and made for the door. Just as she was about to escape, he caught her arm.

"No." How could one word be loaded with so much meaning? Disappointment, anger, impatience.

"It's my first day, Professor. I have to go."She pleaded. No matter what he thought, the bills were still coming due and her purse was severely lacking.

"It is not worthy of your..." He broke off, releasing her arm but obviously thinking. "Get dressed, if you feel you must." She headed for the door and had almost made it when his voice continued, very silky and low, "But make no mistake, Miss Granger, you are under my care and you will not be leaving this house today."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: This is a short chapter. It says what it needs to and we really need to move on. I apologize for any errors, all my postings are first drafts and I have no Beta. All mistakes and foolishness are mine. I love all of my reviewers, readers and followers. Your encouragement means everything to me. :) Finally, for my guest reviewer, happy birthday, this chapter is for you.**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

..

..

Oh! That man was impossible! Hermione threw her robes back into her wardrobe and plucked out a pair of old comfortable jeans and an oversized jumper and brushed past him.

Whatever had happened to her, had happened. At some point in her sleep, she'd stuffed it as far down into her mind as she could. She didn't have time to deal with it. It's not that she wouldn't, she told herself, but just not now; not today.

Today she needed to be busy. Her number one concern was paying next month's rent and keeping the larder stocked. With a twist in her stomach, she also remembered she needed a new wand. That was another fifteen galleons she didn't have to spare. Damn!

Sitting around her kitchen table with Professor Snape wasn't going to get any of that accomplished. Thankfully, he doubted very much he was going to cluck over her and want to talk about her feelings. More the better. But it wasn't going to solve any of her problems either.

After her shower, she dried herself in front of the mirror. The teeth marks at her neck and breast were pink with new skin. She blinked, looked at the bathtub and at the broken door jamb. She let her head fall into her hands as she remembered. She'd finally fallen apart and he'd seen the whole thing.

Well, good. Maybe now, he'd go and leave her to the mess her life had become.

She finished up, plastered on a brave face and left for the kitchen.

He sat at the table reading the _Daily Prophet_, a cup of tea at his elbow. He must have showered and changed while she was sleeping. Without looking up from his paper he said, "An Auror will be here at eleven to take your statement."

She crossed to the counter and pulled out her coffee maker. She loaded it and felt for her wand. She sighed and turned back to him, "Professor, can I borrow your wand?"

The top half of the paper crumpled, revealing his face. He eyed the contraption on the counter and raised his eyebrow, "For?"

"Coffee. I don't have electricity. Magicked coffee doesn't taste the same. No magicked food does."

He withdrew his wand from his sleeve and handed it to her. She waved it at the coffee pot, then at the stove. She returned his wand quickly then banged several pans onto the stove. She took a pile of ingredients out of the larder and the cold box.

She mixed batter, fried ham, and made a quick fruit compote. The strokes of her knife, and the adding of ingredients second nature to her. She easily slipped between frying the ham, browning the crêpes and completing her compote. When the coffee was ready, she turned to offer him a cup to find him watching her. She held up the pot, "Coffee, sir?"

He shook his head, "Coffee is vile."

She poured a second cup anyway, "_Magic_ coffee is vile. Muggle coffee is divine." She poured a teaspoon of cream and another of sugar in each cup. She placed it in front of him anyway. He stared at it with distaste.

She finished up preparing breakfast, set out plates and sat down. "I hope you're hungry."

"I did not know you cooked."

She put a cream filled crêpe on her plate next to the bit of ham and shrugged. "I was raised a muggle." She put a crêpe on his plate and spooned compote over it. She finished his plate with the largest slice of ham.

He placed his napkin in his lap and watched her. She took a long sip of coffee and nearly groaned with relief as the caffeine flooded her system. He eyed his cup, then took a tentative sip.

His eyebrow twitched up and she nearly laughed. "Not bad?"

"It will do." He lifted his knife and fork and cut a tentative piece of crêpe. He watched her take a bite.

When she caught him staring, she did laugh, "Just try it."

He did. If she hadn't been looking she would have missed the slight widening of his eyes and the closer inspection of his plate. He cut another piece and asked, "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My mother. She loved to cook." Hermione shrugged and crossed back to the counter to get the coffee pot. "More coffee, sir?"

"Please." To her surprise, he cleaned his plate with relish and drank two cups of coffee.

When they were finished, she split the last of the pot between their cups. With the dishes cleared, she sipped the last of her coffee.

He replaced his cup on the table, "There is much to be done today, if you are feeling up to it. First I will ensure you are healing properly. If everything is well, we'll need to replace your wand. I did not want to take you out today, but it seems we have no choice. You cannot be without a wand. We will need to return quickly and meet with the Auror."

She stood and went to the sink, running hot water and soap over the breakfast dishes. She'd picked this sweater for the high neck to cover the teeth marks. With her back to him, her face burned in embarrassment.

She felt his hand on her shoulder and he said gently, "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

She leaned against the sink and drew in a breath. "I know."

"I could have Poppy examine you, if you'd prefer."

She sighed, if he'd plucked her out of the bath, it was ridiculous to think he couldn't see her neck. "No, It's fine."

He felt his other hand in her hair, pulling it away from her neck. He gently tugged at the neck of her sweater and she felt his finger run over her pink skin. She closed her eyes and shivered. He smelled of soap and warm spices, crisp parchment and something uniquely him.

Her voice was shaky and she couldn't keep a tremor out of it, "Better?"

His finger lingered for only a moment before he withdrew, "Yes."

Closing her eyes for a moment, she sucked in a deep breath. _Gods, Hermione! Get a hold of yourself!_ She grabbed the rag and hastily began washing the dishes.

"You will need appropriate dress if we're going to Diagon Alley."

She scrubbed the pan harder, "I'll just tidy up."

"I will finish this, go." He must have flicked his wand, the rag jumped from her hand and began wiping the dishes.

With a huff, she wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and went to the canister on the cold box. She took it down and caught him staring again. She ignored him, and pulled the stopper before dumping it's contents on the table. Carefully counting the coins she tallied twelve galleons four sickles and change. Hardly enough for cat food and milk for the rest of the month.

She put a hand in her hair and closed her eyes. "Not today, Professor." She sank into a chair, scooping the coins up and dumping them in the jar.

"I think you should pay closer attention. I did not ask you if you had enough money for a wand." With a twitch of his wand, the coins jumped into the jar, leaving her hands nothing to do. "I said to get your robe and cloak. You cannot be without a wand. Not after last night."

"What I _need_, sir, is to go to work. I am perfectly capable of earning enough to buy my own wand." She bristled.

His lips twisted into a sardonic smile, "Who hires a witch with no wand?"

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ Her forehead fell into her palm with a sigh of resignation. He was right, of course. She couldn't exactly go out into Muggle London and get a job expecting to convert the money, either. The conversion rates were highway robbery. "I can't let you do this. I owe you too much already."

He tensed, then straightened, "You forget yourself. I am a Slytherin, Miss Granger. I do not give gifts without the expectation of some gain on my part."

"Some expectation of _gain_?" She slammed the table with her fists and jumped to her feet, "I can't pay next month's rent. My name is being smeared all over the Ministry. I didn't take my N.E. . I don't have any prospects. I wake screaming from nightmares two years after the war. I can't hold on to a boyfriend. Hell, I can't even take a bath without falling apart! And you think I have something to _offer_ you? What do you want from me, Professor? What could you, of all people, want from the likes of me?"

He took a step closer and spoke evenly, "What do I want, Miss Granger? What do _I_ want? I want for you to get your robe and follow me to Diagon Alley, where I will buy you a wand. I want for you to speak with the Auror so they can put away the vermin that attacked you. I want you to write out that damnable essay to the Witch Weekly and be seen with me on the subsequent date so my home will cease to be pelted by owls from mooning moronic witches. And finally, Hermione, I want you to stop calling me professor. My name is Severus. I am no longer your teacher.

"You are suffering under this delusion that you owe me. If you insist on prolonging this charade, then you will do these things for me and cease your mewling."

It was the last remark that triggered the rage, "Mewling?!" Her stare was fierce with enough anger to burn a hole right through him. He stood his ground, not even flinching as the shelf of coffee cups behind him exploded.

His eyebrow quirked up, and he said expectantly, "Your robe."

With a growl of frustration, she spun on her heel and stomped off.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all my lovely reviewers. A much longer one, now that we're changing gears a bit. Thank you all. Writers write for an audience and I thank you for being mine.**

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Chapter Fourteen

..

..

Within the hour they'd returned with a new wand, white oak and pegasus feather. Fifteen minutes later the Auror arrived through the kitchen hearth. She was an older woman, with several scars across one cheek. Introducing herself as Griselda Grimes, she thanked them and sat at the table for tea.

"Now, Miss Granger, I realize this will be difficult. But I need to ask you what happened last night." Griselda brought out a stack of fresh parchment and a quill. She set it them on the table and flicked the quill with her wand. It poised itself over the page.

Severus caught the tremble in Hermione's hand as she set her cup down. "I will take my leave."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she grabbed his sleeve. "No!"

Severus lowered himself back into his chair, "Very well."

Hermione wrapped her hands around her cup and took a shuddering breath. "Severus and I went to the Order of the Phoenix Ball last night. We had been dancing. We were warm and went out into the gardens."

Griselda's eyes shot between them and she gave a slight frown. They weren't a couple, but even if they were, what business was it of hers?

"We went outside and took a walk around the flowers. We listened to the fountain. We sat on one of the benches. And then Severus went to get us something to drink." She swallowed hard.

Severus and the Auror both remained silent. He still hadn't heard the whole story.

"All of a sudden there was a wand shoved under my chin." Her eyes were slowly filling.

"Did you hear anything before hand? A scuffle? Bushes rustling? Anything?" Grimes asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I thought to myself, I can handle it. I've been in trouble before."

Grimes raised her eyebrows, "Before?"

"In the war." Grimes nodded and Hermione continued, "He told me to stay quiet and not do anything I'd regret. He called me a Death Eater whore." She flashed a watery apologetic look to him. _She_ was the one who went through hell and she was apologizing to _him_.

"I wasn't just going to be a victim. I knew what happened to women in the war when they didn't fight back." A tear slid down one cheek.

"So what did you do?"The Auror prodded.

"He'd taken my wand and snapped it. He was bending over me from behind, so I threw my elbow back and hit him in the diaphragm. He fell back and I tried to pull my wand, but he disarmed me. Then I finally screamed for help, but he grabbed me by the dress and dragged me through the bushes and back-handed me. My dress ripped and when I was trying to stay covered, he stunned me." Another tear dropped into her lap.

"He was ripping at my dress. He bit me on my neck and on my..." Her hand flew to her chest.

"You have the details in the medical report, no doubt." Severus snapped, pouring Hermione another cup of tea and ignoring the Auror's empty cup.

"How did you disarm him?"

"He was pulling up his robes, and I came to. I just didn't know what else to do, I kicked him between the legs and we wrestled for his wand. He was still kneeling on the ground when Severus came."

He stood and put his hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You have everything else you need in my statement." He said tightly to the Auror.

"Pardon?" The Auror looked up at him at last, tearing her eyes away from her report. She glanced at Hermione. "Yes. That'll do."

"Now if you'll see yourself out, Miss Granger needs to pack."

"Pack? I'm not going anywhere." Hermione tried to spin around to look at him, but he gave her a firmer squeeze.

"A few days in the country will do you good." If the old witch wanted to assume, let her.

The Auror gathered her things and pinned him with a hard stare. He ignored her as she sneered at him behind Hermione's back and left by the floo.

"You have been offered a position. I had some discussions with a few people in Diagon Alley while you were picking out your wand. It is something more worthy of your intellect and talents than shelving books."

"A position? With who?" She managed to wriggle out of his grip to turn and look at him.

"With me. Pack your things. We leave this afternoon."

..

* * *

..

"But I can find something on my own." Her trunk was packed and still she yammered.

"I have a position. You need one. This discussion is over."

She blinked.

"Come here." They were standing in her kitchen, her trunk in the corner. When she didn't move, he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Hermione! Come here."

"Fine! But just until I find something else." She grabbed his arm and held on as he apparated them.

They landed on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The view was breathtaking. She wobbled and he steadied her before pulling away and stalking away. "Is it truly that terrible to work for me?"

She bit her lip, then ran after that damn billowing cloak, "Severus! Of course not! You're not listening."

"I have much work to do. I will introduce you to the elf."

He saw her look up and gasp. "You live here?"

"One of the benefits of retirement." He said dryly.

They entered the huge house through the kitchen. A very tiny house elf, even by elf standards, was in the kitchen. She squeaked, "Good afternoon, Master Snape. Please remove your shoes."

He kicked off his shoes and Hermione did the same. "Abby this is Miss Granger. She will be staying with us. You will give her every courtesy we can offer."

The elf fell into a wobbly curtsey. "Miss Granger, we welcomes you to Chalk Cliffs."

Hermione smiled, bending at the waist and extending her hand, "Very nice to meet you, Abby."

Abby darted a look at him before quickly shaking two of Hermione's fingers.

"Show Miss Granger to the green guest room, then retrieve her things from Rose Cottage."

"This way, please." Abby led Hermione from the kitchen.

Severus passed through several rooms and down a long hall, reaching his study. The fire was already lit and he sat tiredly behind his desk going through the mail.

He opened the first envelope; an order. The second was a love letter from some batty witch in Devonshire. He promptly threw this one into the fire. Another order. Another. Severus rubbed his temples.

He pulled out a piece of parchment and began to cross it with a rapid scrawl. He folded the first note and called for Poe. He dug a sickle out of his purse and sent the bird on his way. He scrawled two more letters and called for Abby.

She appeared with a crack, bowing low, "Abby lives to serve, sir."

"Take these letters to the post in Diagon Alley. Tomorrow when the boxes arrive, please place them in my rooms without Miss Granger seeing them. Miss Granger is now in my employ, and she will be taking over some of the tasks at the house."

The little elf covered her mouth with her big floppy ears and tears threatened to spill, "Have I displeased you, Master?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. It is part of her training."

The little elf tipped her head to one side, "She is training to be a house elf, sir?"

"I don't have time for further questions. Please bring tea and sandwiches and don't disturb me until dinner." He began to scrawl further things on yet more new parchment. After Abby left with a bow he went to his bookshelf and began retrieving an armload of books.

He returned to his desk and wrote yet another letter. This one to Flourish and Blotts. He knew Jeff Flourish personally. With the prices he'd paid over the years, he expected the man owed him more than a few favors.

_Jeff,_

_I know your new store clerk did not show up for work this morning. As it happens, she is now working for me. Perhaps if you were not paying slave wages you could hold on to your help. Just a suggestion, of course, from one employer to another._

_In the meantime, I have a list of books I need immediately by return owl. Draft my account as usual._

_A Primer in Alchemical Ways and Means_

_The Ardent Potioneer's Recipe Book_

_Breath of Life: Avdanced Healing and Restorative Potions_

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

Severus folded this letter as well and continued on. It wasn't that she didn't have the brains to be a potions mistress, and until this morning he could never put his finger on it. It struck him when she was cooking breakfast, assuredly checking the heat, adding a pinch of vanilla sugar to the crêpe batter, blindly throwing in cinnamon to the compote. She could follow a book precisely. The problem was no potioner worth his salt ever wrote down the recipe correctly. Even in the books you could buy. _Especially_ in the books you could buy.

She needed a spark of spontaneity in her work. She needed to think instead of blindly following recipes. He'd berated her for it before, but she followed the books anyway. Then he saw her cook. She knew her tools. She knew her ingredients. She knew how they'd combine, she knew how they'd interact with one another in the heat. She was relaxed, she was assured, she was confident. What was cooking but muggle potioneering? A very simplistic version, granted. And yet, the comparison was there.

He'd be taking a risk he hardly had time for. And yet... if it worked he may just have his first Master's Apprentice.

At dinner that night he slid a parchment across the table to her. She looked it over, gave him a puzzled look and looked at it again. "That is your new schedule, Hermione."

She gave a hearty laugh, "You want me up at four A.M.? Are you mad?"

"We have much to do, and not many days to do it in. My business requires more qualified help. This is your study schedule for your Potions N.E.W.T. I have scheduled the exam in one month."

She choked on a mouthful of food, "A month? Professor," She shook her head, "Severus, I haven't touched a cauldron in two years! I missed my entire last year of school. You want me to be ready in a month?"

He'd expected this. He cut a piece of pork and slowly brought it to his mouth, "Follow the schedule, Hermione."

"Four hours of reading starting at four in the morning, four more in the potion lab and then, what's this? Kitchen?"

"You will be preparing the dinner meal. Unlike tonight, I expect fine food prepared without the benefit of magic or a muggle cookbook. Drinks will be served in my study at seven each night, and dinner will begin promptly at eight We dress for dinner."

"What? Is your house elf quitting?" She said acidly.

He expected her snide remarks and continued smoothly, "Can you drive a muggle car?"

"Well, yes, my father taught me. But what has that got to do with..."

"There is a muggle vehicle in the carriage house and a muggle grocer in town. The wine steward in town is not a complete moron. Muggle money will be provided for your ingredients. If you require specialty equipment, purchase it. Abby will only be at your disposal to wash dishes and serve. While you are here, I do not expect to eat alone.

"As for the other portions of your schedule, you will read only one volume at a time. Each one has four potions marked in it. During your lab time you are to complete those potions. In addition, you will be helping to produce work for me. You will start with three number twelve cauldrons of Widdle's anesthetic."

"Number twelve...?"He watched her do the math in her head, "That's like a hundred and fifty gallons of...You don't need an assistant. You need a miracle. Severus, this isn't humanly possible!"

He picked up the napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth, "I have you. We will have to make due."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Sorry guys, things get hectic with work every once in a while. Perhaps you'll forgive me when I give you two new chapters tonight. I am so thankful for the thousands of readers I have, if you could spare a moment, I'd really love to hear from you! I don't usually respond to each of them as I really need to spend the little spare time I have writing for you, but they really help with my morale, and keep the muse fed! Thanks to ****_all of you!_**

**_OH! _****And I have a great story idea for my next HP ff. I'd like to get an idea if there is any interest in reading more from me. Don't worry, I'll finish this one first. I'm still working on the outline for it.**

**_.._****-Elvee**

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Chapter Fifteen

Letters to the Moon

Hermione sat on the floor in the drawing room by the fire. Dinner had ended when Severus had excused himself to work. A pile of potions books were stacked on one end of the table, a short stack of fresh parchment and an inkwell sat in front of her. She scribbled:

_Dear Sir,_

_I would like you to consider my entry into the date contest._

She frowned, it was too formal. Hermione crumpled the parchment and threw it into the drawing room fire. She'd agreed to write the bloody letter to _Witch Weekly_, but now that push came to shove, she had no idea what to say. She only had three pieces of parchment left, and it was getting late. She pulled another piece to her and dipped her quill.

_Severus,_

_I'm probably the only person that knows you well enough to know I don't deserve you._

She crumpled this one, too and tossed it in the grate. It was too close to the truth. It was best not to discuss feelings at all. Talk about the date, just the date. She pulled another piece to her and tried again.

_Severus,_

_In reply to the contest in the Witch Weekly, I'd like to submit my name for consideration. The article asked for me to include details about myself. I'm just one of many that fought in the last war. I'm twenty-one years old, on the short side and as you can see from the enclosed photograph, rather plain. I'm well-read and traveled. If you need an ego boost, simply invite me to play chess. _

_I'd like you to consider meeting me for a quiet afternoon. No complications, no strings, no expectations. Maybe we can discuss your thoughts on Harbet's theorem over a glass of merlot, or we could take a walk. Perhaps we could take turns reading to one another. I would imagine you'd like something quiet and out of the public eye as much as I would._

_Looking forward to hearing from you,_

_Hermione_

That would have to do. She put the picture she'd had Abby retrieve from her house on top of it. Hermione folded the letter, tidied the small secretary desk and went down the hall. Peeking in through the open door of his study, she could see Severus bent over stacks of parchment making occasional notes.

"Severus?"

He finished writing and looked up. "You should be sleeping."

"I just wanted to give you this." She entered the room and held out the letter to him. He took the parchment, saying nothing. "It's the letter for the _Witch Weekly_ contest."

To her horror, he opened it and read it on the spot. He smirked, "Chess?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If that's the worst I do in my life, I'll be happy enough."

He folded the letter and tucked it in his drawer. "Anything else?"

She fidgeted standing there in front of his desk with his dark eyes pinning her to the spot. She stammered, "I should...be getting to bed. Early morning tomorrow."

He inclined his head, but kept a straight face. "Do you require assistance?"

She blushed furiously, thinking of him lifting her out of the tub. "No. I'll be fine." She was backing to the door.

He smirked again, "Very well. Goodnight."

She fled.

What the hell was that about; _Do you require assistance? _Her first thought was the bath catastrophe of the night before. But there was something... else in his eyes when he said it. Why did she feel it was some kind of double entendre?

"You're being ridiculous!" She scolded herself and ripped off her clothes for the bath. Severus was already in love with Lily, and she was the reason they were still apart. Of course he was referring to last night. She had to stop all this silly dallying and get her head on straight, she had her potions N.E.W.T. In less than a month.

She bathed, brushed her teeth and pulled on a nightgown. It was nearly nine when she climbed into bed. She cast a variation of the tempus charm to wake her at three thirty, and opened her first assigned potions book. When her eyes were getting heavy, she set her books aside and turned out the lights.

Hours later, she bolted upright in bed, clutching her scarred arm and gasping for air. Her wide, horrified eyes searched the unfamiliar room. Moonlight poured in from the window overlooking the ocean. The sound and smell of the surf brought her back to the guest room in Severus's house. Her heart pounding, she slipped out of bed and threw up the sash on the window, gulping in the sea air.

At least she hadn't woke screaming this time. When would the nightmares end? When would the shadow of that damn war leave her alone? It had been two years, and yet she could see Bellatrix behind her eyelids like it was yesterday. _Crucio!_

She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at the huge silvery moon hung over the edge of the cliff, as she tried to get hold of her frayed emotions.

A few minutes later a tall, lean figure stepped into the disk of the full moon, silhouetting himself. His cloak and robes billowed in the wind as he stared out over the ocean. She watched him as he stood there, his hands clasped behind him, the wind tossing his hair and whipping his clothes. After a long few minutes, he turned and strode to the house.

She muttered a quick tempus spell, and finding it after three, she got dressed and tiptoed down to the kitchen with her books. She began to put on the kettle, when a sudden crack behind her almost made her drop the pot.

Abby looked completely horrified and squeaked, "What is Miss Granger doing cooking? Oh, the shame!" Abby began running full force into the kitchen cabinets. When she dropped to the floor, she shook her head and made to take another run at knocking herself out.

Hermione struggled to keep the elf from hurting herself. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were awake. Now that you're here, Abby, could I please have some strong hot tea and toast?"

Abby crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes in suspicion, "Master says you cook dinner. Only dinner."

Hermione stepped across the kitchen to the table and began rummaging through her books, "Of course. I'm sorry, Abby. I'm not used to having much help around the house. Can I call you tomorrow morning for breakfast?"

Abby looked slightly mollified, but straightened her shoulders, "Yes, Miss Granger. Master says to take care of you. Abby serves."

"Of course." Hermione shook her head slightly and spread her books, quill, parchment and inkwell across the kitchen table. She'd already read the first thin book, this morning was for going back through it and taking notes. The four potions Severus had asked her to prepare would have to be staggered through the week. She could complete the first, start another and make one cauldron of Widdle's anesthetic. If she was lucky.

She looked up from her book at the scrape of a chair. Severus sat down as Abby served tea and a large platter of toast and jam. He was dressed in his signature black robes and stirred milk in his tea.

"Good morning, Hermione."

"Morning, sir." She sipped her tea distractedly as she scribbled more notes. Her left hand was splayed across the book. Her forehead wrinkled. She turned back a page, then forward.

"Problem?" He quirked an eyebrow over his tea cup at her.

She leafed through her notes, frowning. "I think so. Abby can you go to Rose Cottage and get my copies of _1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and _The Apothecary's Field Guide_?"

Was he smirking? Abby snapped her fingers and disappeared with a crack. Two seconds later Abby handed her the books and Hermione leafed through them, comparing the ingredients to the palsy potion to her reference books.

"How is that...?" She flipped back and forth in the books, her frown getting deeper, her search getting more frantic.

"Problem, Hermione?" If he wasn't smirking before, he was now.

"This won't work. The recipe for this palsy potion isn't right." She huffed.

"Very good." He stood. "I'll expect a completed potion this afternoon." He headed for the back door.

Her jaw dropped open. "This afternoon? But..."

"I'll be out in the lab." The door to the back garden closed behind him.

"But..." That insufferable man!

Two hours later Hermione's fingers were covered in ink. The table was smothered in notes and open books. She'd even scoured Severus's library and brought stacks of books. Those were now open, too. Her third pot of strong tea had grown cold halfway through.

How could he expect her to prepare a potion without a recipe? The nerve of the man! The look he'd given her at breakfast told her he'd known all along it was wrong. She'd had to isolate the base potion, then put in the effective ingredient and the minor ingredients to counter the side effects and then balancing and stabilizing ingredients, too. She had to choose just the right effective ingredient. Then, each ingredient had to be prepared just so, stirred a certain number of clockwise or counter clockwise stirs, heat had to be adjusted... it was a nightmare.

She did one more arithmancy calculation on the outcome of the potion, and satisfied it wouldn't kill anyone, she jotted down her ingredients and abbreviated her notes. She glared at the book Severus had told her to study from. Humph! And they called that a potions text!

Now she had to tackle the second potion. At least she had all the texts out already out. If nothing else, if she ran out of time, she'd just prepare the base today and tear the ingredients apart in the morning. She read carefully through the ingredients and sighed. The shrinking solution wouldn't work either. She pulled _1001 Magical Plants and Fungi_ in front of her and began looking up ingredients.

Her fingers raked through her hair as she scribbled down her notes. A crack beside her startled her so badly she almost upended her inkwell.

Abby bowed, "Master says time for potions lab."

"But... Fine." Hermione grabbed her completed recipe for the palsy potion and her notes, stuffed as many books as she could into her bag and followed Abby out back to the caretaker's house.

Inside, Severus had six cauldrons steaming. He was diligently grinding and stirring at the same time. "Your bench is in the corner. I do not wish to be disturbed."

Hermione saw a small bench, big enough for three cauldrons and thumped her bag on the floor, taking out her notes on the palsy potion. She retrieved her ingredients and began to prepare her potion base, eying the flame carefully. When that base was maturing, she started on the Widdle's anesthetic in a number twelve cauldron, doing the math easily to quadruple the recipe. When that base was simmering, she started a second batch of anesthetic. She still had two days to complete the shrinking solution, and if she was honest with herself, her ingredients might not wind up matching the base in the potions book. She decided she'd brew two cauldrons of anesthetic today, and leave the shrinking solution for tomorrow. At least then she could make sure she wasn't going to poison anyone after running the arithmancy on her recipe.

At the end of four hours, she had what she thought might be a palsy potion and had two vats of completed anesthetic. She killed the heat on all three cauldrons with a wave of her wand, wiping sweat off her forehead. She decanted a vial of her palsy potion and sealed it. It was a strange swirling lavender color.

She turned to place the sample on his desk, only to bump straight into Severus. She squeaked, backpedaling.

"Sorry, sir."

"Let's have it then." He held out his hand. Nervously, she handed over the shimmering purple vial. His face was a complete blank as he raised the vial to the light and checked the consistency. "Your recipe, Hermione?" She dug in her bag and handed him a crumpled piece of parchment.

"And here's the arithmancy calculation." She handed him another page.

He rolled his eyes, and handed the last back to her. "We are studying potions, Hermione, not arithmancy."

"Well, I didn't want to kill anyone!" She snapped.

His eyebrow went up, but he said nothing. "Very well. It's just after noon. You are supposed to be in the kitchen."

She bit her lip and looked at him through lowered lashes, "Is it correct?"

"We'll discuss it at dinner. I trust I can look forward to a well prepared meal?"

She hooked her bag over her shoulder, "Of course, sir." As she walked past him to the door he caught her arm.

"Hermione?" He waited until she looked up into his face before continuing, "My name is Severus."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Hermione's T

Hermione drove like a broom on fire over the country roads to town. She visited the butcher, took the best she could find and put in an order for later in the week. She did the same with the green grocer. The wine steward might not have been a moron, but they didn't stock anything she was very familiar with. She made one last stop for some kitchen utensils and machines and picked up a bottle of liqueur for before dinner.

She pulled the car around back and brought in groceries by the armload. Abby stood in the kitchen tapping her foot angrily. It was obvious she didn't like her domain being invaded by this stranger. As it turned out, there was plenty for Abby to do, without even touching the cooking. Setting up the study for drinks, setting the table, keeping the sink full of dishes under control, electrifying the strange muggle appliances. She even sent her out to the overgrown herb garden to pick lavender. Hermione noticed the more she had to do, the happier she was.

Dinner was supposed to be at seven sharp. It was six thirty and she was a mess. Her hair was everywhere, she still had ink on her cheek, and her fingernails were terrible. She'd thrown her best effort into tonight's meal as a thank you for everything Severus had done for her. She put everything on warm and dashed up stairs.

Once in her room, she yanked off her robes, yelling for Abby. "Please start the shower and try to find my red dress robes and red shoes." In her hurry, she missed the rather large box on the bed.

"Master said you are to wear that." She pointed at the box.

"But..." She sighed. She didn't have time to argue. "Fine. Pull it out, and let me get a quick shower, so you can help me with my hair."

A very hectic thirty minutes later, Hermione took a deep breath to settle her jangled nerves before entering the study. In the box had been a floor length silver lamé dress. It had an empire waist with a flowing skirt that had pleats to the floor. Small silver chains were suspended across her back. As far as wizarding clothes went, the dress was rather revealing. It had a plunging neckline, a scandalous back scoop and tiny little spaghetti straps. There was nothing to cover her forearm, and that made her incredibly self-conscious. Add to that the four inch heels, and she was as nervous as a cat in a bathtub.

Abby had helped her sleek back her hair with about four gallons of hair potion. The dress she'd worn to the Order ball made her feel like a goddess, this one made her feel very feminine and sexy. The thin, metallic fabric felt weightless against her body and flowed like mercury with every movement she made. She flushed in the mirror when she remembered he'd bought it for her.

What was he playing at? There wasn't going to be anyone here to impress. She bit her lip, thinking. There just wasn't enough information to go on. She'd have to play along for now and figure it out later.

Severus was sitting in a winged back chair by the fire. He had on a fine black set of robes and ascot, his eyes never leaving the flicker of the flames as she drew near.

"Good evening." She flashed a nervous smile and took the chair opposite him.

If he liked what he saw, he gave nothing away. "Have you prepared dinner to your liking?"

"Yes. I hope you like it." Gods, the man played his cards so close to the vest! Standing, she carefully crossed the carpet to the cabinet along the far wall and held up the bottle, "May I get you a drink, Severus?" He eyed the muggle spirits warily. She laughed and poured two glasses of bourbon over ice. Her gown flowed around her as she handed him a drink and sank back in the chair opposite. She eyed him over her raised tumbler, "Trust me."

He took a sip. It was rich and smoky. He twirled the glass, looking at the liquid in the firelight. He seemed to relax after she took her first sip.

"You look lovely." His smile was small, and almost shy.

She beamed, "You look quite dapper, yourself. Do you dress for dinner every night?"

"Only when I have company."He eyed the glass with appreciation and took another sip.

She snorted, "I would hardly call me company. I've been in your kitchen all day." She took another sip and unable to stop herself, blurted, "How was my potion?"

He gave a short bark of a laugh, "I wondered how long it would be before you brought that up."

She laughed, and took another sip of her drink. Bourbon was a bit strong for her and her eyes watered. "Well?"

"It was a first attempt." He shrugged and ignoring the hundreds of questions in her eyes, drained his glass, "Shall we?"

"What's that mean?" He stood and tucked her arm into his as they headed for the formal dining room. Once there, he pulled a chair next to his and she sank into it, pouting. "How can I know what I did wrong if you won't tell me?"

Salads appeared on the table and Severus poured the dry white wine she'd chosen. "You said yourself it has been two years since you touched a cauldron."

She blanched, then whispered in mortification, "So... what? You'd give it a T?"

He smirked, "I am hardly your teacher anymore, Hermione. You are living in my home and keeping me company for dinner. I didn't grade it."

She poked at her greens in mushroom cream. "Maybe you should." She muttered.

He put his fork down, "This isn't about grades. It's about potions."

"Easy for you to say, I have N.E.W.T.s in a month." She grumbled.

He sighed, "Would it satisfy you if I said it was closer than what was in the book?"

She rolled her eyes, "I think Neville could have come up with something better than that book."

He rewarded her with a smirk, "Perhaps." The salad plates vanished. Soup appeared.

Gods, he was insufferable! Why was he playing with her? She reigned in her temper and struggling to keep her voice even, she asked, "Why did you give me that book if you knew the recipes were wrong?"

"I gave it to you _because_ the recipes were wrong. You can memorize just about anything, I'm sure we both know that. You need to learn to apply the theory and art of potions." He took a spoonful of soup and made a surprised face, "This is very good. What is it?"

She shrugged, saying, "Italian sausage soup."

"And how did you make it?"

"I browned the sausage in olive oil, drained it..."

"Why olive oil?"

"It imparts a certain flavor on the meat without adding too much fat. Anyway, then I let it simmer in chicken stock and added some caraway seeds."

"Why caraway?"

"They go nicely with the bourbon."

"But we are drinking wine." He sipped his wine.

"Yes, but that ties in well with the sausage and will carry through to the next course. It's a progression of flavors that overlap and blend..." She stopped mid sentence and narrowed her eyes. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

His face slid into a passive mask, "And what, Hermione, would you imagine I am doing?" The soup bowls disappeared and were replaced with the main course. "What do we have here?"

"Lamb in raspberry and blood orange sauce with garlic couscous and asparagus in drawn almond butter. Stop changing the subject."

He took a bite of lamb. "Am I?"

"Severus!" She warned.

"Hermione, you know the books backward and forward. It's time to use what you know. Potions is an art and a discipline. You have the discipline. Apply what you know in a way that is uniquely yours."

She took another sip of wine, considering.

He took pity on her, "My palsy potion is green."

She nearly choked, "Green?! But how...?" Inspiration was dawning, "You use chamomile!"

"Blood orange on lamb? An interesting combination."

They pushed their plates back and pudding appeared. Severus examined a small scoop of cream colored ice with a sprig of lavender and a demitasse spoon. A small, thin bottle of wine appeared on the table, as did fresh wine glasses. Hermione poured the new wine. "This is Eiswine. It's a dessert wine from muggle Germany."

Severus poked at the ice, "And this?"

"Lavender sorbet. To help us both sleep." His eyes met hers and held them. She shrugged. "Couldn't hurt, right?"

"I suppose not." He took a taste of the sorbet and his eyebrows went up.

"We muggles are clever with food." She giggled at his obvious appreciation. The wine was going straight to her head.

He stood from the table and pulled out her chair. "Thank you for dinner. If you'll excuse me, I have several more things I need to do before I retire."

She stood, still smiling. "Apparently, I have a green potion to research. I'll see you in the morning." Perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was the company. Perhaps she was giddy with fatigue, but she reached up and brushed her lips to his cheek.

"Good night, Hermione." His face gave nothing away.

Realizing what she'd done, she flushed and whispered, "Good night, Severus."

Upstairs, she closed the door to her bedroom softly and leaned against it calling herself twelve kinds of a fool. He was taking pity on her, that's all. If there was one thing Hermione hated, it was being the object of anyone's pity.

By the time she'd slid out of her dress, had a bath and changed she'd scolded herself thoroughly about kissing her employer. There were a thousand reasons to keep her hands to herself. She threw her bag on her bed and buried herself in potions research.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I really like writing Severus as opposed to Hermione. I find I'm much more comfortable in his head space.

This chapter is dedicated to **bluefirefly5**, she has lovingly reviewed every chapter. Thank you!

Chapter Seventeen

Bellatrix and the Tide

Severus sat in his study, another glass of bourbon at his elbow wondering what the hell he was doing. His had never planned on taking her on as an assistant, but it did make a measure of sense. The N.E.W.T. was unnecessary nonsense, of course. He'd wanted to occupy her mind, let her distance herself from the war and Yarrow, away from Weasley and the Ministry. She was drowning in things gone wrong in her life, and if anyone could sympathize, it was him.

His original aim was to simplify her life, let her get that insufferable Griffindor gumption back. Then he'd bought the dress. Correction, he reminded himself wryly, he'd bought _another_ dress. He could barely keep it together. Her bare throat and earlobes cried out to be caressed in jewels he knew he could afford. She'd smelled of vanilla and lavender.

He took a long pull of bourbon and closed his eyes, pinching them shut with the fingers of his left hand. After a moment he picked up the letter she'd written last night and reread a single line: _rather plain_. He snorted and took another pull of bourbon.

Looking at his hand holding her letter, he frowned. It wasn't the hand of a twenty something young man.

_Well_, he thought sarcastically, _at least I didn't buy more flowers._

He pulled the sack of replies to Skeeter's article off the floor and without opening a single one, he threw them in the fire, nearly smothering it. He pulled out a quill and sent the meddling reporter a quick note. He'd have to grit his teeth and bear it. They would have to be seen in public, at least for a while.

He pulled her first attempt at a palsy potion from his desk drawer and turned it over in his hands. Lavender as an active ingredient wasn't wrong, in fact, it would work. It was tricky to work with, requiring more buffering agents than the chamomile he usually used. Judging by her recipe, she'd taken that into account, and correctly at that. He'd leave her that annoying stack of books for the rest of the week, after that, she wouldn't be allowed any more crutches.

He smiled, knowing she'd hate that worse than losing to him at chess. _Check, Miss Granger_.

In the morning, he'd headed straight to the lab to decant the potions he'd been working on, rack them into cases and tick off completed orders. Abby cracked in and out of the lab delivering orders and collecting payment. His Anywhere Apparition solution bubbled happily in the corner. On her worktable he noticed the industrial jugs of anesthetic. Perfect, as always. He stuffed those into the crates heading to Hogwarts and was just starting his sixth cauldron when an owl scratched on the back door.

Potter. He had been expecting something from him. He scribbled a reply and sent the owl off.

She smiled at him, offering some food wrapped in a napkin, "Abby said you skipped breakfast."

"Indeed?" He washed his hands and took a bite of the egg sandwich. "Figure out the green potion, Hermione?"

She smirked, "Of course. And the shrinking solution, too, I think."She brushed past him to her work table and began gathering ingredients without a trace of hesitation.

He quirked a brow, "That certain, are you?"

She ignored his barb and lit the flame under her cauldron. "I don't have time for another mistake."

For one second he considered telling her the lavender potion would work, then thought better of it. It was a solution, yes, but it wasn't a simple, elegant solution. If he was going to train her to be his assistant, there would be no half steps. She would be as good as he was, if not better when he was done, her sensibilities be damned.

He changed the subject, "We will need to do something about the _Witch Weekly_ article. Something...public." He sneered the last word. He knew that being in public again with him would only remind her of the ball.

She didn't look at him, but her knife hesitated while slicing the locust beans and her posture stiffened. At last she managed a steady, "When?"

"I would suggest we wait until the incident at the ball is out of the papers."

She gave a curt nod and resumed slicing, her back still to him.

If he hadn't been looking for it, he might have missed the slight tremble in her hands. "I understand you find this distasteful, Hermione. Perhaps I should choose another."

The knife rattled as she dropped it to the cutting board. "Dammit!" She cradled her hand to her chest and headed for the sink, running her finger under cold water.

He crossed to her in a stride and took her hand, "Let me see." Her finger was bleeding.

She tried to tug her hand away, saying, "It's nothing." When he didn't relent, she stopped struggling.

He held her hand fast as he ran a quick cleaning charm over it, then healed the cut.

He held her hand a moment too long. He realized it too late. She stared at her shoes and whispered, "Why are you doing this?"

Taking his best lecturing tone, he answered, "Blood will contaminate..."

Her back went ramrod straight and she cut him off. "Of course."She pulled away and went back to her workbench.

He turned and buried himself in his work. They worked in tense silence until Hermione left for the kitchen. She left a violently blue shrinking solution and a green palsy potion on his desk. Her last cauldron of anesthetic was jugged and capped, her workstation spotless.

When the door closed behind her, he leaned on his work table and sighed.

At seven sharp, she stepped into his study. Her strapless gown was fitted like a sheath. The green satin made her complexion glow. He handed her a drink and they settled into a strained silence in front of the hearth.

He watched her carefully, the slight tremble in her hands, the way her eyes flickered in the light from the fire. Absently, her free hand rubbed over the scar on her forearm. She sipped at her drink, the ice tinkling in her glass, and still they sat in silence.

He knew her well enough from his years as her professor to know she usually galvanized under pressure. But it simply wasn't happening. She was doing all that was required of her, but she simply wasn't... herself.

He stood and crossed the distance between their two chairs in an easy stride. She tore her eyes from the fire and looked up at him. Her eyes were plaintive, and he sensed a shift coming, her walls were about to slam shut. Before she could react he ran a finger down the scar on her forearm, saying, "Tell me."

Reflexively she snatched her hand away. Her eyes immediately fell and she gave a short acidic snort, "What's to tell? It was Bellatrix."

He picked up his drink and went to the mantle, staring into the flames. "Not Bellatrix. You. Why you are so ashamed of that scar."

"I don't see you all of a sudden wearing short sleeves now that Voldemort is dead." There was heat in her words.

"I never did." He said simply.

After a full minute, she spoke again, he voice just above a whisper, "I was promised to Greyback. When she was done."

With his back to her, his eyes slid shut. Making up his mind, he slid his glass on top of the mantle and held out his hand. Her eyes were questioning, but she put her drink down and put her small hand in his.

He led her to the drawing room, transfiguring one of his cloaks into a wrap for her. He placed it over her shoulders and drew her into the gardens by the french doors. Instantly the wind grabbed them. With a purpose, he slid his arm protectively around her shoulders and began to walk.

"Where are we going?" They reached the edge of the cliff, the moon playing off the waves below. When he didn't answer, she tried again, "Severus?"

He leaned into her ear to be heard over the wind and said, "What do you see?"

"The ocean? The cliff? The full moon?"

"Watch the waves." He gave her a few moments, and waited until she turned to him before continuing, "Endurance, Hermione. The moon waxes and wanes, affecting the tides. The wind blows against them. The storms come, sudden and terrible. What do the waves do? They endure. They may bend or break differently across the rocks, but they sustain the same essence. They are still waves."

Perhaps it was unconscious of her, but she leaned into him, staring below them where the rocks and the water met in furious surf. He felt her slide an arm around his waist and he could feel the shudder in her breath.

"You endure. She couldn't take that from you. Weasley couldn't. Yarrow couldn't. It is your essence." He pinned her with his black eyes, and waited until she turned to seek his face in return. Her eyes were wide and very somber as her hair whipped between them. "Do you understand? You will always be a little know-it-all Griffindor."

She gave a soft smirk, then dropped her eyes back to the surf. "That you dress in Slytherin green and silver."

It was his turn to smirk, "A man can hope." After a few minutes in comfortable silence, she shivered in the summer wind. He pulled her closer and bent to the curve of her ear, "Let's get you inside. The fire will do you good."

Back in front of the fire, he pressed a snifter of brandy on her before refilling his own glass.

"Thank you for that." She was seated in her chair again, her eyes glued to the fire, the red and gold dancing in her eyes.

He sipped his bourbon and shrugged, "I am not good with sentiment." The clock on the mantle chimed eight and he turned to face her, "If we are to eat, we must hurry. I have an appointment."

She stood and took his arm as they headed for the dining room. "An appointment?"

He rolled his eyes, "Do you really think Potter or Mrs. Weasley aren't wondering how you are?"


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Another update, and a little beg for some feedback. If you have a moment, I'd love to hear form you. Thank you for being my lovely audience.

Chapter Eighteen

Potter and the Weasley chit sat across from him in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron. Severus had refused the offer of a drink. He was only going to stay long enough to make sure they respected Hermione's privacy.

Potter was frowning, "Where is she?"

"Recovering," he said smoothly.

Potter scowled, "Where?"

"At my home in Ireland."

Miss Weasley darted a look at Potter and a crease appeared between her eyebrows, "What? Why?"

"I do not have unlimited free time." Severus drawled.

She leaned into Potter and whispered, "Mum is going to have kittens." Seeing his raised brow, she had the manners to look embarrassed, "Nothing personal, Professor. She's really old fashioned."

"I assure you..."

Potter's look was completely black, "I saw you kiss her at the Order ball."

Severus waved the accusation away lazily, "For Mr. Weasley's benefit, not mine."

Potter spluttered, "Since when do you care?" Miss Weasley put her hand on his arm to calm him.

"Someone needs to. It's obvious despite your protestations of being her friend, you have done anything but."

"How dare you?" Potter half rose to his feet before she pulled him back down by the shoulder.

His voice was an implied threat, veiled in silk, "You were the one who let her get captured. You were the one who encouraged her dalliance with Weasley. You let her stand alone in front of the Wizengamot."

Potter's eyes narrowed as he spat, "She did that for you."

"And I alone stand by her for it." Severus hissed.

Potter glared at him for a full minute, before Severus turned to the Weasley girl, "I thought at first she was suffering from post traumatic stress, but I think there is more than meets the eye."

Miss Weasley dropped her eyes and let her hands slip into her lap. After a moment, she nodded. "I never did understand her and Ron."

Potter turned to her, "What are you talking about? She loved him!"

Miss Weasley smiled sadly at him, "Of course she loved him. They'd been friends for years. That doesn't mean it made sense. Think about it, Harry. They had nothing in common. Hermione is a thousand times more intelligent than him. All he can think about is quidditch, chewing with his mouth open or his next lay. They couldn't even be in the same room without arguing."

Severus watched the interaction between them. He'd had the same reservations when he'd seen pictures of them together during the victory tour.

Potter shook his head after a pregnant pause. "No. She cried for a week when he left us in the Forest of Dean. They just didn't work out is all."

"One moment." Severus interrupted, "Weasley abandoned you?"

Potter glared at him, then let his shoulders slump, "Yeah. When we were looking for the horcruxes. He came back the night you brought us the sword."

His gut clenched, he had a sneaking suspicion of something very calculated on Hermione's part. "That was when she and Weasley...?"Severus prodded. At Harry's renewed glare, he continued smoothly, "It matters, Potter."

The young auror snapped, "She was mad as hell, I can tell you that. But, no, not then. It wasn't until the final battle."

"Was Mr. Weasley under any undue stress?"

Potter shook his head in disbelief, "Undue...? We were fighting Death Eaters!"

Miss Weasley offered gently, "Fred died that day."

Severus groaned inwardly. Of course. Potter wouldn't function without Weasley. He couldn't lose his best friend and still have the focus to face what lay ahead. Gods, had she sacrificed her own happiness to give Potter the support he needed? It fit the facts.

If that was true, Potter had no idea how much he owed her.

If that was true, then why had she stayed with Weasley afterward?

Severus slid from the booth with a curt, "I must return."

"Professor?"

He turned back to Miss Weasley, "Yes?"

"Can we visit her?"

He shook his head, "Not at the moment, no. She is revising for her Potions N.E.W.T."

Potter stiffened, but she held him in place with a gentle touch. "Thank you for taking care of her, sir."

He inclined his head crisply and spun away in a whirl of black cloth.

..

..

At a table in the Hogshead, Rita Skeeter checked her watch, "Severus! You're late!"

He gave a short bow, "It could not be helped." Aberforth brought him a firewhisky and returned behind the bar to wipe dirt onto a clean glass with a filthy rag.

She ran her neon orange fingernail around the rim of her glass, chiding, "I'm disappointed in you. Granger? Really?"

He sipped his drink and waited, saying nothing.

"Why would you blow your chance to meet Miss Right-witch on her?"

"You were at the trial, Rita. You tell me."

"So what? You owe her? Is that it?" She rolled her eyes, shaking her head, "Bo-ring. My readers will never go for it."

Under the table he unsheathed his wand and pointed it at her. Using a nonverbal confundus charm, he smiled. "You can cover our date, but it won't be interesting."

Her eyes had a distant look in them as she made a distracted frown, "No. Not interesting."

"You won't need any pictures. None of them will be good enough."

"Hard to find a good photographer."

"Exactly. Tonight you will ask me for an introduction to Horace Slughorn. You will do anything I ask in exchange for this introduction. He's very well connected and would be a very valuable source, well worth a favor. You wouldn't risk upsetting me by printing anything else about Hermione or I. The contact would be much too valuable."

"Valuable." Her vacant grin reminded him of a jackal.

"Do you understand?"He murmured.

"Yes. Keep away from you and Granger and I get Slughorn."

"That's a very good plan, Rita. Aren't you glad you thought of it?"

She nodded absently, and as Aberforth approached to refresh her drink, Severus let his wand slide back up his sleeve. He cocked an eyebrow at her as Aberforth switched out her glasses, "You were saying?"

Her eyes snapped back into focus. She put a poisonous looking fingernail between her teeth, thinking, then blurted, "Severus, I need a favor."

His lips twisted into a smirk and he finished his drink in a single gulp.

He waited easily until her hold over her enthusiasm broke in a rush of words, "What can you tell me about Horace Slughorn?"

He gave a predatory smile and waved for another drink, before saying smoothly, "And what can I expect in return?"

She squirmed in her chair and lowered her voice seductively, "Anything you want."

"I need leverage."

A shudder ran through her and her lips parted, as though he'd just said something terribly arousing, "Oh, Severus! I_ love_ leverage."

..

..

When he returned to Chalk Cliffs it was well after midnight. He strode upstairs, tired to his very bones. It would be another night without sleep. He checked her door. The lights were off and all was quiet.

He went into his room and removed his outer robe. At the very least he needed a shower and a fresh change of clothes. He turned the taps, dropped his clothes to the floor and stepped under the spray. He placed an arm against the wall and felt the hot water loosen his spine, one vertebrae at a time, his mind struggling to fit the pieces together.

Her sacrifice with Weasley hardly explained everything. If Potter hadn't noticed that, it was unlikely he would notice anything else. There was something missing. Something he wouldn't have missed if he'd seen her everyday. She was pale and felt thin and brittle, like she was strung too tight.

The thought slammed into him. He stepped out of the water, hastily dried and threw on his bathrobe, sliding his wand into a pocket. He padded down the carpeted hall until he was outside her door. He raised his hand to the broad expanse of the door. A tingle ran through his palm and the air crackled with blue static. She'd warded her door.

He'd underestimated her. He was no better than Potter or Weasley.

With a wave of his wand, the wards fell and he heard her scream.

He tore open the door. In the moonlight pouring in through the sash he could see her writhing under the bedclothes, her disheveled hair stuck to her face with sweat. She twitched, panting, then let out a whimper, digging at the scar on her arm.

He began to cross the floor to wake her as she screamed again, then froze mid-stride when she begged plaintively, "Severus!"

He took an uncertain step back.

Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillows. "Please! No!"

He couldn't decide if going to her and waking her up was the right thing to do. What if she was dreaming of him hurting her? That sent a twinge through his gut.

She fisted the covers and arched her back, writhing in imagined pain. It was a familiar agony. The cruciatus, then. Bella had always been partial to it. Then again, Severus was no stranger to it, either.

She sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes flying open. It was too late to back out the door. He pushed his shoulders back and sat on the edge of the bed. He made no move to comfort her aside from his voice, "Only a dream."

Her eyes were wide and wild, her chest heaved with panic. She struggled to reconcile her surroundings, even as he continued to speak. "A dream, Hermione, no more."

When his voice finally registered, her head dropped in her hands and she sobbed, "What are you doing in here? Get out!"

He leaned over her on the bed, his hands hovering as if he longed to gather her up. He spoke gently, "It's alright. I understand."

Her head shook almost violently, "You broke my wards! You had no right!" She took a swipe at him with the palm of her hand and missed.

He clamped his arms around her and held her while she fought like a cornered hellcat. He barely managed to contain her flailing arms by grabbing her wrists from behind and crossing her arms over her chest. He sat behind her and waited as her swearing struggles turned to anguish. He pulled her into his chest, conjuring a handkerchief, content to let her cry without explanation.

When her hiccuping sobs finally subsided, she took a long shuddering breath.

"Better?" He whispered softly into her hair. He felt her nod. He loosened his grip, easing her back to the pillows. She pulled the blankets to her chin, all red-rimmed eyes over the wool.

He turned to leave, tugging his bathrobe back into place. Her voice, raw and tentative, stopped him, "Why are you doing this?"

He put his hand on the door jamb and paused only long enough to reply, "Because someone should. Sleep now."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hi guys! OK, here it is.I know you have questions about my ability to post, and the short answer is, I'm a truck driver. If the company says gogo, well, I gogo. When we're busy, I'm ten hours on and ten hours off, a hell of a rotating schedule. I'll do my best, I promise.**

**I've had some questions about pacing that I'll address at the end of the chapter. You can totally skip over those notes if you'd like. I'll be working on the very pivotal Chapter Twenty today. I apologize in advance for the cliffie. :) - Love, Elvee**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

When Hermione awoke again day light streamed through her windows. Casting a quick tempus charm and discovering it was after seven, she flew out of bed and pulled on her clothes. Grabbing her bag of books, she thundered down the stairs two at a time.

Abby cracked into sight at the bottom of the stairs and scrambled to keep up as Hermione sped past her, "Would Miss care for breakfast?"

"I can't believe I slept this late!" Hermione dumped the contents of her bag on the kitchen table, books and detritus sliding across the polished wood.

"Master said to let Miss sleep." Abby wrung her tea towel.

"I don't have time to sleep!" She frantically flipped through her assigned book and ran her finger down her next assignment.

"Abby will bring tea, Miss." With a bow the small elf crossed to the other side of the kitchen, floating the kettle and preparing the pot.

Hermione scribbled madly, chipping away at the poison antidote, struggling to remember the rule on complex antidotes. "The antidote is more then the sum of its parts. Or something. Shit." Gods, she should take a page from Harry's book – and just tell Severus to shove a bezoar down the victim's gob. A snort escaped her lips as she thought about the look on his face if she dared.

Abby served the tea and Hermione distractedly gulped at it as she thumbed through her books, scribbling like a woman possessed. Her fingers were covered in ink, her hair wild, as she impatiently jerked the loose strands behind her ear as she worked. She cast another tempus charm. Fifteen minutes left to throw together a semblance of a headache potion, and no time to do the arithmancy for either of her slap-dash attempts.

She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and gritted her teeth before trying to formulate something from memory. When Abby cracked back into the kitchen to announce Severus expected her in the lab, she finished up the last line on her headache potion recipe with a frantic scribble.

Shoving her study materials into her bag, she dashed to the caretaker's house and ran inside. She'd yanked out two number two pewter cauldrons, lighting them before Severus had a chance to greet her. They'd have to have words about last night, but right now she couldn't afford the distraction. She fetched the ingredients from both lists and separated them by recipe on her work table.

"Hermione!"

Armadillo bile to the left for the antidote. Ladybug wing casings for the headache potion on the right. Sweet grass to the left, shredded willow bark to the right. Next ingredient.

"Hermione!"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped.

Severus stood behind her with his hand out, "Your recipes?"

She couldn't look at him, her hands twisting in front of her. "I couldn't... I didn't have enough time to..."

His brow arched up in reply and she sighed and handed over the papers covered with blots of ink and cross hatching. He studied the poison antidote. "Why lily bulbs? They are poisonous in and of themselves."

"Yes, but in the opposite way of hemlock. They stop the heart, whereas hemlock causes it to beat so fast it bursts."

"Explain the theory behind your recipe."

She stepped beside him and ran down the list of ingredients, explaining the reasoning for each and the preparation method chosen. When she was finished she studied his face, biting her lip. Gods, why did he have to be so hard to read? Was it right?

He shuffled the papers. "And the headache potion?" They repeated the process, with her babbling justifications and theory and Severus remaining completely unreadable. He compared the two recipes, not looking at her.

She waited on pins and needles until her patience completely evaporated, "Well? Are they right?"

He gave a curt nod. "They are adequate." She deflated in relief as he continued, "It will not be necessary to brew them. There is nothing wrong with your technique. As this is the last day in the study week, I have a new assignment for you. Come."

He crossed to the center of the room where a large table stood. He picked up a red leather book and handed it to her. "This is for you."

She took it and fanned through the pages. It was blank parchment. "What do I do with it?"

"Every recipe you complete successfully will be recorded here. This will be your potion journal. Every potions master keeps one. Your assignment this afternoon is to copy your successful potions from your study in here."

Why would she need to record all of her potions? A thought came to her, and she voiced it, "This is why all the text books are wrong, isn't it?"

"Masters frequently ward and encode their journals. After a Master dies, his journal and instructions to decode it pass to his apprentice. If he has no apprentice, they frequently fall into careless hands. They are often easily mistranslated by design."

She spied a thick black book on his workbench. The pages were wavy and well used. "So that's your journal? Your life's work?"

He gave her a hard look and said stiffly, "It is."

She studied him for a moment before dropping her eyes and saying softly, "I think our secrets are safe with one another by now." When he didn't reply, she stammered, "I'll clean my bench and get started."

He returned to his work without another word. She tidied up, placed her new journal in her bag and crossed the room. She hesitated at the door, thinking of last night. Of him in her bedroom. Of his arms around her. She bit her lip, "Severus?"

He looked up from slicing lotus roots.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

He frowned at his bubbling cauldron. "Not at the moment." She turned away from him and yanked the door open. "Hermione?"

She waited without turning around.

"I can't leave this. Tonight. We can talk tonight."

..

..

Hermione sat in the kitchen using a careful hand to copy her recipes. A short time after eleven o'clock Abby cracked into the kitchen, bowed and squeaked, "Miss has a visitor in the drawing room. Should I bring tea?"

Who in the world? "Yes, please, Abby." She set her work aside, smoothed her robes and noting the ink on her fingers with dismay, left for the drawing room.

Entering she saw Molly Weasley on the blue sofa. She hardly had time to register it before the older woman launched herself at her with a relieved huff, "Oh, thank the Gods!"

Hermione returned the hug absently, "Molly, what are you doing here?"

Molly smoothed Hermione's hair away from her face, cupping her chin and studied her with a frown. "You're much too thin. And just look at those circles under your eyes! I knew it was a bad idea to let you leave with _that man_."

She stiffened, "Please don't. He's been very kind to me." Hermione sank into a chair next to the couch.

Molly's mouth pursed as she sat back down, "You don't look well."

"I didn't sleep well, that's all." Abby cracked into the room and slid a tray on the coffee table, "Tea?" Hermione busied herself pouring and preparing both cups.

"Ron misses you." Molly tried to pass the comment off as light conversation, but Hermione stiffened.

Hermione's cup rattled as she set it back into her saucer. "He'll get over it. I have."

Molly sighed and slid her cup back on the tray, "I understand you're angry, dear, and Merlin knows he deserves it, but it's time to come home. Forgive and forget."

Hermione, the girl who always had something to say was momentarily struck dumb. Distantly she felt her anger start to bubble within her. She gave Molly a look of disbelief. "He cheated on _me_."

"Ron made a mistake, Hermione. You've proved your point." Molly reached across and patted her knee, "It's time to be the bigger person and face your problems."

"Mistakes? Once would have been a mistake, Molly. Once. Ron didn't make a _mistake_. I did. And I'm not stupid enough to make the same one twice." She poured another cup of tea with her trembling hand.

Molly watched as she sipped her fresh cup before saying quietly, "He loves you."

Hermione almost spit out her tea. "I don't need that kind of love."

The older woman pursed her lips, "So you're just running away, then?"

"I'm moving on." Hermione sat straighter in her chair, realizing it was true. Ron had been horrible to her, but she wasn't going to waste any more time dwelling on it. Real love, the kind Severus had for Lily, was out there. Maybe, just maybe, someone would love her like that some day.

Molly plowed on ahead, "Well, no matter what you decide, you can't stay here. When are you returning to Rose Cottage?"

Hermione knew Molly hadn't given up on their reconciliation, she was just changing the subject. "I'm not sure."

"You can't stay with an unmarried man, Hermione, really." The older woman frowned in disapproval.

Hermione blinked. She gathered her wits and spoke very deliberately, "_Please_ tell me you are not questioning Severus's propriety."

Molly drew herself up, every bit the insulted matriarch, "Well, I certainly don't know what passes for proper behavior in the Muggle world, but among wizards proper young witches do not bed down with wizards who are not their husbands."

Short on sleep as she was, that was the last straw.

"Bed down?" Hermione jumped to her feet, striding across the room, then whirling around again, "Bed down? You make me sound like a prostitute!" Molly opened her mouth to speak, her face pinking with anger, but Hermione rolled right over her, "I'll have you know Severus has been nothing but a perfect gentleman!"

Molly sneered, "_Severus_ is it now?"

"It would be ridiculous if I didn't address him by his given name! I see him more than I do the inside of my own eyelids! Not that it is any of your business, but he has offered me an assistant position and I've taken it. My job requires incredibly long hours. Severus has been kind enough to offer me a guest room, and I accepted. When things calm down in the lab, I will be returning to Rose Cottage. _Without_ Ron."

Molly opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione pointed at her with an index finger and continued in a low voice, "Molly Weasley, I love you and your family very much and I appreciate everything you've done for me. Don't make me regret that."

Molly pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Abby!" The elf cracked into the drawing room as Hermione headed for the door. "Please see Mrs. Weasley out."

She stomped down the hall, muttering, "The nerve! Of all the interfering, meddling, nosy..." Blind with anger, she went into Severus's study and poured herself a firewhiskey, downing it in one. Leaning against the sideboard, she choked as it burned it's way down. Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes from the fumes of her own breath.

"Keep defending me like that and I'll make no guarantees as to my conduct." His silky voice drawled from the direction of his desk.

She deflated her puffed up anger and snorted. "What would a man like you want with a chit like me?" She faced him and saw his teasing sneer fall.

His voice was low and deceptively smooth, "I am a man, like any other." When she didn't respond, his lips thinned and he spat, "Or have you pigeon-holed me as well? Professor? Death eater? Spy? _Tragic hero?" _She hadn't heard that type of a sneer in his voice since her sixth shuffled the papers on his desk and grabbing a handful he crossed the room, clearly intending to leave.

She stepped in front of him. Without any idea what she was going to say, she grabbed his elbow as he tried to sweep past. He stopped, hissing, "Unhand me."

"No." It was barely whispered between them. She kept her hand on his arm gently, like he was a wild animal. Carefully, oh so carefully, she placed her other hand on his chest.

His eyes flashed with anger, "Miss Granger!"

"Hermione. My name is..." And she kissed him.

The hand that had held his arm went around the back of his head to tangle in his hair. Her lips weren't asking permission. They were stating a fact. After this there could be no doubt she saw him as a man.

There was only a moment's hesitation before the parchment in his hands fluttered to the carpet and her grabbed her shoulders, pulling her in as his mouth responded hungrily to hers.

They finally came up for air and she pressed her forehead to his, breathing hard. He put his lips to her forehead and inhaled the scent of her hair. He spoke first, and she was pleased to find he was as breathless as she. "That was..."

Her face fell as she pulled away, biting her bottom lip. "I know."

"Do you indeed?" Before she could react, he'd pulled her back in to kiss her forehead. He looked in her eyes, "Tonight. I promise, we'll talk tonight."

* * *

**A/N: A couple of people have said that I rushed through a few scenes. Guilty as charged. However (here's my caveat), the pacing is intentional for a couple reasons: 1) Perception. We are not in an omnipotent narrative style and I do not 'head-hop' (unfortunately, a common mistake in new writers when using an omnipotent/omnipresent narrative style.). Instead, we are relying off the perceptions of one person. My, how time flies when you're having fun, yes? And it drags when the sky is falling, right? So we hit the highlights of what would stick in the mind of the character as their important moments, and let the rest slide. It is a temporal trick of writers called character induced perception. And 2) We have a lot of things to get to, and I'd like for this not to be a 75 chapter monstrosity. Don't worry, we won't skimp on the important stuff. It's a great question and it deserved an answer! :) ILY guys! - Elvee**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: OK so it took nineteen chapters to get these two thinking about the same thing at the same time, but the struggles aren't over. So many obstacles that they have to face alone and together. Remember Severus is still Severus and things are seldom easy for him mainly because of himself. Love is rarely simple, and when it is it usually isn't worth it. Reviewing is very easy though, and very appreciated :)Thanks! Elvee**

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Severus waved his wand and the parchments ruffled into a neat stack in front of them. Giving her one last kiss on the forehead, he left in a flutter of black robes.

Hermione stood in the doorway, feeling like a fool. Gods, what was wrong with her?

_He needed it_, she argued with herself. The look in his eyes when he said 'tragic hero' had been her undoing. Of course she saw him as a man. No, he wasn't tall, dark and handsome in the traditional sense. He was beautiful on the inside, more beautiful than anyone she'd ever met. Only two women in the world had ever known it. She was the only one left, and she was right here.

_You had no right_, her conscience argued back. She absently ran her fingers over her swollen lips. _Maybe not_, she smiled to herself, _but he didn't seem to mind_.

How he could be anything but angry with her about Lily? Gods, she'd have thrown herself at him in the coffee shop if she thought he'd do anything but sneer and push her away.

She shook herself. The day was far from over and she still had tons to do. She hustled off to the kitchen to finish her journal work and prepare dinner.

Six o'clock found her in her rooms, with Abby wringing her hands and fighting over her nest of hair. "I's not a ladies elf, Miss." Abby said for the tenth time, her voice getting more and more frustrated.

Hermione wasn't going to be deterred. Nothing was going to stop her from looking her best tonight. She took the comb from Abby and sent her to go lay out her dress. With a good amount of struggling and a few well placed charms, she managed to get her hair to gather in a messy bun with ringlets chasing their way down her back.

She made up her face and stepped into the bedroom to find a strapless black dress, as elegant as it was simple. A small notch was cut in the bodice between her breasts. The skirt fell in an exaggerated A-line to trail behind her on the floor. It was sprinkled lightly with sparkling obsidian beads. It fit like a second skin. She turned to the mirror, the smile on her lips falling away when she saw the extent of Dolohov's scar the dress revealed. In that moment, a flutter of uncertainty flickered in her stomach. What if he'd kissed her just to get her out of the way?

She thought of the waves he'd shown her just last night.

_Endure._

Her posture straightened even as she thought it. It didn't change the essence of who she was. Even if he did kiss her out of kindness, maybe there would be someone somewhere that would kiss her for her. It was a hard hope to hold when she realized she'd never been touched by a man that loved her. Her eyes glazed with unshed tears, and she sniffed, trying to hold it all in.

The seams holding her together were slowly getting stronger. It would get easier. Right here, right now, what the mirror held was what she had to work with. If there was even a chance of getting and keeping a beautiful man – a man like Severus- she'd have to pull it together. It was one thing to know what she wanted, quite another to go get it.

Abby emerged from fluffing the crinolines under her skirt, with teary eyes of her own, "Miss looks so beautiful. This is the best one of all."

Hermione gave a shaky laugh, "Thank you, Abby. You're very sweet."She put on her lipstick, and with one last look in the mirror, she left her rooms.

Arriving at the door to Severus's study, she saw he was already pouring drinks. He turned and froze, staring with open admiration. After a long moment, she blushed. Taking this as his cue, he lifted her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles, "You look stunning." Severus led her to the chair in front of the fire.

"You look very smart, yourself." She smiled. He did. Black may have been all he wore, but Gods, did it suit him. Tonight he opted for muggle wear instead of his usual dress robes. He wore white tie and tails, all perfectly tailored and spotless. His hair shone in the firelight, tied back at the nape of his neck with a length of black cord.

He handed her a drink and took the chair opposite. "I'm sorry I didn't have time for you earlier. I had just started..."

She laughed easily, "You were working, Severus. Don't apologize."

He swirled the ice in his drink and watched as the liquor settled back into the bottom of the glass. The silence settled in like a third wheel.

She took a sip of her own drink. She felt the liquid courage burn down her throat before saying, "Severus... this afternoon... I..."

He stiffened, "It was my fault."

"Wait a minute! I kissed you and it's your fault?"

"I shouldn't have let you get the wrong idea."

"I see." Hermione stood. The slithering of her satin dress was the only sound in the room. The control she'd fought so hard for in her room was slipping. She crossed to the sideboard and put her glass down. "Enjoy your dinner, Severus. I seem to have lost my appetite."

"Hermione!" He called out after she bolted out the door. She ran upstairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She pulled her trunk out of the closet and packed with a few waves of her wand. She cast a _locomotor_ spell and left the room in a swish of black satin, her trunk trailing behind.

He was standing at the bottom of the steps, his face a thundercloud, "Where are you going?"

"Do me a favor." She peeled off the ridiculously high heeled sandals tossing them angrily to the carpet at the top of the stairs before she descended. "The next time you want to play house Severus, don't call me." She hissed as she brushed past him.

There was a thump behind her as her trunk fell to the floor. She stiffened, but kept walking in all her barefoot dignity, throwing over her shoulder, "Keep it."

He grabbed her elbow hard enough to bruise, "You insufferable woman! Do you not understand the difference between want and need?"

She kept her eyes forward, and said tightly, "Let me go."

In response he dragged her into his study and slammed the door, pushing her down into a chair. He raised his wand and warded the door, then whirled on her, breathing hard.

She crossed her arms and refused to look at him. Under her crossed arms she fingered her own wand. He grabbed her chin and forced her to make eye contact.

"Let's talk about want, Miss Granger. Let's talk about the night of the ball. The night you looked so devastating any man in their right mind would have given a limb to have you on his arm. But you were with me, dancing and laughing. I was the envy of every man in that room. If I had done what I wanted to before Yarrow attacked you, I would have had you naked in my bed that very night. A lust potion, perhaps, or the Imperious curse; any number of ways would have done the trick. The method hardly matters. I would have rut between your legs until neither one of us could walk. _That_ is want. That _want_ is what I live with every moment of every day you're in this house."

He stood over her, dark and dangerous; his eyes flashing with anger. A pink flush colored his cheeks as his chest heaved.

The arousal sitting low in her belly made a low squirm. He wanted her. She blushed and looked away.

"_Need_ is an entirely different thing. It brings the nasty necessity of reality into play. What would happen if I brought you into my bed without permission? What would happen now that you are under my protection? Now that I am your employer? Now that Molly Weasley all but called you my whore?" He spat the last word. "Need is what we must do, what we must have in the real world. I am not a nice person, Miss Granger, but for your sake I can't afford to confuse the two." He ran two fingers lightly down her cheek to slide effortlessly down her neck, hitting every sensitive spot on the way down. A sigh escaped her lips and he continued on to the top of her breast, stroking it gently. "Unless, of course, you'd like to be my whore. I certainly wouldn't put up a fight."

His words cut through the haze of pleasure.

She slapped him.

"Damn you." Pushing past him, she strode purposefully to the door. "Drop the wards!"

"If you want to play grown up games, Miss Granger, you're going to have to expand your sensibilities."

She pulled her wand and pointed it at the door frame, trying to identify the strange spell.

Behind her, he said indifferently, "Feel free to try. You're not leaving here until you understand exactly what it is you're asking for."

She bit her lip, concentrating on the strange pattern of blue and gray shimmering lines. She'd undone three of twenty when her fourth wand movement made everything snap back into place. "Forget I asked."she huffed, without turning around.

"I'm afraid I can't." He whispered behind her ear.

It sent an involuntary shudder through her. How did he move so damn quietly? She stopped waving her wand, her eyes drooping in surrender. His arms wrapped around her waist and she felt his teeth at the base of her ear.

She let out a ragged whisper, "Let me go."

"No."

"You..." she gulped as he kissed a line down her neck, leaving a trail of fire. She lost the thread of her thoughts with a moan.

He smiled against her neck, "I what?"

"You're a bastard." She whispered, reaching behind her to tangle her hand in his hair.

He gave a throaty chuckle as he put a string of love bites up her neck,"Indeed. Tell me, Hermione, do you still want this?"

"Yes!" He flipped her around and his lips crashed into hers. She dropped her wand and pulled his hips to press against her body.

Gods, the man could kiss! Her knees went weak, her arousal throbbed low in her stomach and she couldn't have made a complete sentence if her life depended on it. When they broke apart, he pressed their foreheads together. Both of them were breathing hard and smiling.

He searched her eyes for a long moment before pulling her into him desperately, "Then we will find a way."


End file.
